


Moramortia

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Next Generation, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Major Illness, Malfoy Family Feels, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 146,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: Scorpius isn’t on the Hogwarts Express at the start of seventh year, and Albus discovers that he’s become very ill over the summer. Determined to find out what’s wrong with him and how to make him better, Albus starts doing some research, and discovers Moramortia, a fatal illness with just one cure. Together, Albus and Scorpius (with some help from Rose) set out on an adventure to find the ingredients to make the potion that will hopefully save Scorpius’s life…





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been just over a year in the making, and I can't believe it's finally done. Thank you to everyone who's helped along the way, including those who have had to suffer through all the angsty snippets that I couldn't help but share. Special thanks go to my amazing beta, Abradystrix – Bathilda believed in us, and we got here in the end!
> 
> Note: This is NOT a WIP. The fic is complete; I just like causing people pain with my cliffhangers. Updates will be every Friday, and the final chapter will go up on Saturday 25th November.

> _Find what you love and let it kill you._
> 
> _Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness._
> 
> _Let it kill you and let it devour your remains._
> 
> _For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover._

-Charles Bukowski

*

Scorpius isn't on the Hogwarts Express at the start of seventh year. This would be alarming in itself, but coupled with the fact that Albus has heard nothing from him in weeks, it's downright terrifying. 

Albus waits in their usual compartment for half an hour, pacing up and down between the seats. He sticks his head out of the window to try and peer across the steam-filled platform towards the barrier, but he doesn't see anything through the billowing clouds. There's no sign of Scorpius in the corridor on the train either, no flash of white-blond hair among the jostling crowd. 

It's weird because Scorpius is usually so eager to get to school. He's the first one on the train every year. Albus would have expected him to be buzzing with excitement for their final year. He would have expected to find him waiting by the barrier, bouncing up and down and flailing and talking at a million miles an hour about their classes. But there's no sign of him anywhere. 

He hangs half out of an open window and watches as the clock hanging over the platform hits eleven o'clock, panic rising. His mum is still there chatting to Hermione, and she gives him one last kiss on the cheek as the train gives a long hiss and begins to move, but it isn't comforting. He just feels empty. This is the first time he's ever ridden this train without Scorpius. He doesn't want to do it alone. 

As they chug out of the station, slowly picking up speed, he expects to see Scorpius sprinting down the platform after them, trying to catch up, shouting for the train to wait for him. But all he sees is the crowd of parents, siblings, and other assorted well-wishers, already beginning to thin out now there's no longer a reason to wait. 

Albus sighs and pulls back from the window. There's only one person on this train other than him who might have seen Scorpius. His last possible hope of not having to spend the journey alone. If Scorpius is anywhere, he'll be with Rose and the other Prefects. 

Albus squeezes his way down the crowded corridors, weaving through the mess of people. A group of first years stare at him as he passes, and he shoots them a glare that makes them all go bright red and run away into their compartment. Aside from them, he gets the usual snide comments from the Gryffindors he passes, and Karl tries to trip him. Albus hops over his foot and walks away, ignoring the jeers. He thinks Scorpius would have been proud of him. 

He eventually finds Rose at the opposite end of the train, telling off a couple of fifth year Hufflepuffs for littering in their compartment. When she spots Albus coming she gives them a final stern look and promises to report them to Professor Sprout if she finds any more mess. Then she slams the compartment door shut and turns to Albus.

"Where's Scorpius?" She asks. "He wasn't in the Prefects' carriage but he should have been. He has Head Boy duties to do. Is he hiding down the other end of the train with you?" 

Albus stares at her. "He's Head Boy now? When did that happen?" 

Rose frowns. "You mean he hasn't told you?" 

"He hasn't told me anything!" Albus says, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. "Have you really not seen him? This is important, Rose." 

She shakes her head. "No, Albus. I have not seen your boyfriend." 

"He's not my boyfriend," Albus protests. 

"You could have fooled me." She swishes her robes around herself with great authority and draws herself up tall. "I would have expected him to be more responsible. You'll have to go back and tell him that if he continues to shirk his duties I will come and have words with him. He should be very af-"

"I haven't seen him either," Albus says.

Rose freezes. "Excuse me?" 

"None of his stuff is in our usual carriage. I didn't spot him on the platform. I thought he'd be up here with you, but..." he swallows. "Do you think he missed the train? Have you heard from him at all?" 

She shakes her head, frowning. "I haven't had anything from him. Not a letter all summer. But I thought he'd have written to you..." 

Albus looks over his shoulder, checking the crowded corridor for any sign of a tall, skinny, flailing figure. There's nothing. "Not for weeks." He looks back at Rose. "I went on holiday with Mum and Dad and Lily, and when we got back he just stopped writing to me..." 

Rose folds her arms and gives him a look. "Did you two have another fight?" 

Albus shrugs, feeling completely lost. "If we did it wasn't one I knew about. Anyway, Scorpius doesn't stop writing when we fight. He writes even more, whole essays about how much he hates me. It's like his brain won't shut up." 

Rose unfolds her arms with a desperate flourish. "Well... Maybe he's on holiday!"

Albus sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It's the first day of school, Rose. It's the first day of _seventh year_. Of course he's not on holiday." 

"Just a suggestion," she says, a note of defensiveness in her voice. She looks out of the window, staring over the passing houses, like she's hoping to find the answer written in the sky. "Maybe he's ill," she says finally with a frustrated little shrug.

Albus snorts. "He'd have to be pretty ill not to come to school. He loves it here. I think even if he was dying he'd find a way to drag himself here." 

Rose adjusts her Head Girl badge and frowns off into space. "What about his dad?" She looks at Albus. "Maybe something's wrong with his dad. Has your dad mentioned anything? He's friends with Draco."

Albus shakes his head. "Nothing..."

"Well, maybe you should write to him and check." 

Albus nods thoughtfully. "That's a good idea... maybe I'll go and do that now. I'll see if he's in any of the compartments on the way. You never know, he might have had a sugar crash and fallen asleep in one of them or something."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Rose says. "Anyway, I'm going to go and yell at those third years who nearly set their compartment on fire earlier. I mean really, letting off fireworks on a train. How stupid do you have to be?" She sets off, then stops dead and looks back at Albus. "Do you want me to come and find you later? I can help with the letter if you want."

"I think I'm capable of writing my own letter," Albus snaps, worry and frustration finally getting the better of him.

Rose holds her hands up. "Just offering. You don't have to get all touchy about it." 

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I'm not touchy. I just wish I knew where he was." 

Rose puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure he's okay." 

Albus meets her eyes. "I really hope so."

He sends the letter out that afternoon, then spends a lonely night stuck at the end of the Slytherin table without his best friend. The Sorting feels dull, and the Feast is tasteless since there's no Scorpius to enjoy it with. It's like all the life and colour has been sucked out of the world. 

The worst part of the evening comes when he goes up to the dormitory and has to try and sleep beside Scorpius's empty bed. He tosses and turns all night, wondering and worrying, and getting very little sleep. It's a relief to get up and go to breakfast next morning. 

Thankfully, his dad's reply comes while he's sitting there picking at his bacon. He nearly knocks over his goblet of pumpkin juice in his eagerness to untie the letter. Wiggles, the family snowy owl, hoots indignantly at him, and he strokes her head and feeds her a bit of toast crust to make up for his over-excitement. Once he's freed the letter from her leg he glances up at Rose and waves her over. She glances around then dashes across the hall to sit in Scorpius's empty seat.

"You know we're not supposed to switch tables at meals," she hisses, ducking her head and looking up at the staff table to see if she's been spotted. "We're setting a bad example to the kids."

"Whatever," Albus says. "We're seventh years. The rules don't apply to us anymore."

"That's not even a little bit-" She breaks off at Albus's look and tuts. "Fine. Show me this letter." 

Albus shoves the cornflake bowl and toast rack out of the way and smooths the letter out on the table between them. 

_Albus,_

_Glad to hear the train ride was okay. I know Professor McGonagall was a bit worried about all those high winds around the border._

_I agree it seems a little odd Scorpius wasn't there, and no, I haven't heard from Draco in a few weeks, not since we got back from France. I'll keep an eye out for him at work and if I hear anything I'll write. Hopefully they'll turn up soon!_

_Good luck with the term. I'm sure you'll be excellent. Are you planning to take the advanced Apparition lessons if they're offered? It'll give you a great head start for Auror training. I wish I'd had chance to take them._

_Constant vigilance, and keep in touch (at least let us know you're alive this term, your mum was really worried last year when you didn't write)._

_Love,_

_Dad_

"So Draco's missing too?" Albus says, glancing across the table at Rose. 

She sighs and folds her arms, leaning on the tabletop. "Now you're going to worry more, aren't you?" 

Albus stares down at the letter again. "Of course I am. What if someone's kidnapped them? What if... What if Delphi or someone broke out of Azkaban and kidnapped them?"

Rose tuts. "Do you have to be so dramatic? They're probably fine, Albus. And no one's broken out of Azkaban in years."

"But what if-"

Rose shakes her head and taps a finger on the table. "Speculating is just going to make you even more crazy. Let's just assume everything's fine for now-"

"Which it isn't-"

"And then," Rose continues forcefully, "we can reassess when we get more information in the future. Okay?"

Albus looks at her, takes a deep breath, and nods. "Okay." 

He doesn't feel like assuming everything is fine. He feels like his whole world has been turned upside down. He's only been at Hogwarts once before without Scorpius and it had been hell then, too. The sooner Scorpius comes back, the better. 

"Good," Rose says. She reaches out for the toast rack and pushes it toward Albus. "Now stop stressing and eat something. It's our first day of seventh year classes! We have to be on top form." 

Albus picks up a piece of toast and takes a bite of it. "I'm not sure I've got a top form," he says, through his dry mouthful of crumbs.

Rose rolls her eyes at him. 

 

She was right about the lessons. All of a sudden they've become more fiendishly difficult than ever before. It isn't just the content that's hard, but they're being taught at a frantic pace, like they're already running out of time to learn everything they need to, and the lectures at the start of their first class of the year in every subject are terrifying. With teachers constantly telling them that their whole lives depend on the next few months, and with every minute seeming to count far more than before, Albus is overwhelmed. 

But never for a moment is he overwhelmed enough to forget Scorpius's absence. That's impossible, when worry is niggling at him in every moment, and life at Hogwarts is a constant, stressful reminder that Scorpius isn't here. Every few seconds in class they're given some nugget of information that Scorpius would have loved if he'd been there, and Albus finds himself taking twice as many notes as before. When Scorpius eventually shows up, which Albus is praying he will soon, he's going to need to catch up, and Albus is going to help him as best he can. That's what best friends do.

Outside of lessons is where Albus feels his loss most keenly. Every time he looks across at Scorpius's empty seat in the Great Hall, every time he looks up from his books in the Common Room at night and remembers he's alone at their normal table by the fire, every time he goes to sleep with Scorpius's bed empty beside him and wakes up to silence rather than geeky enthusiasm, he feels so alone. Even in his darkest days at the school, during third and fourth year, he never once felt truly alone the way he does now. 

First thing on Wednesday morning, Albus has his first Transfiguration lesson of the year. He's never enjoyed getting up early, and he's struggling without Scorpius as an enthusiastic alarm clock, so he's still half asleep while Professor McGonagall calls out the register. 

"Jake Llewelyn."

"Yes, Professor."

"Amber Lyon."

"Yes, Professor."

"Scorpius Malfoy... No, of course not."

Albus's head snaps up off his arms and he frowns across the classroom at her. What does that mean? 'Of course not?' Without a second's hesitation, he shoots his hand into the air. 

"Professor," he calls.

She breaks off in the middle of calling a name, and looks at him over the top of her glasses. "Yes, Potter?" 

"Where's Scorpius?" 

Everyone turns to look at him, but he doesn't lower his hand. He keeps it high in the air, resolute and determined.

McGonagall's expression flickers ever so slightly, then returns to its usual, calm sternness. "I don't think this is the moment to discuss that, do you?" 

Albus waves his hand in the air. "But I need to-" 

"Come and talk to me at the end of class," she says, and it might be wishful thinking, but Albus is almost there's a note of kindness in her voice. 

"But-" he tries, but she shakes her head. 

"Later, Potter." 

It's so final that he immediately withdraws his hand and stares down at the desk. 

All his spells are off-kilter for the next couple of hours. He's jittering too much to concentrate. They're only recapping things from last year, but anyone watching him would never believe he'd got an E in his sixth year exams, and in the end he gives up on trying to turn his teacup into a turtle. Instead he puts his chin on top of his stack of books and stares at the clock on the wall, willing it move faster.

The second the bell goes for the end of class, Albus shoots out of his seat and rushes up to McGonagall's desk.

"Professor!"

"Potter," she says, glancing up at him. "I'm sure I can't imagine what you're here for." 

"Scorpius," Albus says breathlessly. "Do you know where he is? I haven't heard from him in weeks. He wasn't on the Hogwarts Express. Is he okay?"

McGonagall sighs softly and shuffles through her papers. "This is private information, but Scorpius asked me to share it with you since the two of you are so close, and I'm sure I can trust you with it."

"Yes?" Albus says, heart racing. 

McGonagall looks up from her desk, expression sombre. "Scorpius has been spending some time in St Mungo's. He hasn't been well. He's at home now, and I believe he will be joining us shortly. I understand he's quite eager not to miss too much more school."

"St Mungo's?" Albus asks, a chill of dread running through him. "What's wrong with him? Professor-"

McGonagall raises a hand to cut him off. "I'm very sorry, Potter, but I don't know any more." She surveys him through her glasses. "I suggest you try not to worry too much. You have a lot of work to concentrate on, and with your ambitions it's imperative that you keep on top of everything. I'm sure Scorpius will be back with us in no time." 

Albus opens his mouth to ask more questions, then closes it again and nods reluctantly. "Alright. Thank you, Professor." 

McGonagall watches him a moment longer before removing her glasses. "Potter, if you need help with anything, especially your Transfiguration work, you know where to find me. I noticed you struggling today." 

Albus swallows. "I was distracted. I can do better."

McGonagall nods. "Understandably so, but nevertheless. I'd hate to see your potential go to waste. I expect at least an E from you in your exams next summer." 

"Alright," Albus says, looking down at his hands. "I'll come and ask if I need anything. I'll see you soon, Professor." 

"No doubt you will. Have a good day, Potter." 

Albus hesitates by the desk a moment longer, then he picks up his bag, leaves the classroom, and rushes to tell Rose the news. 

 

It's Tuesday morning in the second week. Albus has arrived at Potions just early enough to set up properly, but late enough that he still has to rush. He's busy arranging ingredients and reading through his notes when Rose comes flying into the room and drops into the seat beside him, Scorpius's normal seat. She's never normally this late, and she never arrives at a lesson in anything other than a serene state, but this morning her hair is a mess, her robes are askew, and she's breathing hard like she's sprinted the whole way here.

Albus looks up at her in surprise. "You're late. What happened?"

She dumps her bag on the floor and turns to him. "You weren't at breakfast, were you?"

"No," Albus says, putting a container of beetle eyes on the table. "I slept in." 

Rose tuts. "Breakfast is important, Albus. What would your mum say about-"

"I know," Albus says, waving for her to stop. "Skip the lecture and tell me what happened?"

"Okay, but-"

"Before I strangle you?" Albus says, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Rose sighs dramatically and starts pulling books from her bag. "Scorpius is here."

Albus flails in complete shock and knocks the beetle eye container off the table. It shatters, and shiny black beetle eyes roll all over the floor. "He is?"

Rose waves her wand impatiently and repairs the container. With another flick, the beetle eyes return to it, and everything levitates itself back onto Albus's desk. "Yes, he is. Which you'd know if you'd come to breakfast."

"How is he?" Albus asks, abandoning his potion ingredients, messy and only half sorted out on the desk. "Is he okay?" He leans in close to Rose, voice dropping to a whisper. "Did you talk to him?"

She shakes her head and starts pulling jars of herbs from her Potions kit. "I didn't talk to him, but I saw him bringing his trunk in. He looked... Well, he looked pretty awful actually." 

Albus's heart sinks like it's made of lead. "He's been ill," he says, trying to reason it out, trying to dampen the panic that's sparking up inside him. "Maybe he's still recovering. Do you think he'll come to class?" He looks over his shoulder towards the door. 

"He looked like someone who was going straight to bed." She shakes her head, and there's deep and genuine concern in her eyes. "He doesn't look well enough for lessons, Albus." 

Albus shuts his potions book with a snap. "I'm going to go and see him."

Rose takes hold of his bag so he can't leave. "No," she hisses. "You need to stay here. We're doing the Draught of Living Death today. It's always on the N.E.W.T. exam, Mum told me. This is important."

Albus tries to tug his bag away from her. "Seeing Scorpius is more important than anything. I can catch up later."

Rose doesn't let go of the bag. "I'm as worried as you are, but I think we should give him some space. Let him get settled in and have a nap. You'll see him at lunchtime."

Albus pulls at the bag for a moment longer, then deflates. "Why are you always right?" 

Rose lets him have his bag back and pats him on the arm. "Dad says I got it from Mum. Do you want help with those ingredients?" 

 

Albus is usually excellent at Potions. Aside from Defence Against the Dark Arts it's his one real speciality. He even got an O for it in his O.W.L.s. But today the only thing standing between him and everything exploding is Rose. Twice she grabs his arm to stop him putting in completely the wrong ingredient. His usual flair is utterly erased by the knowledge that Scorpius is somewhere in this castle and in a couple of hours he can see him. 

Miraculously, after three hours trapped in the sweltering dungeon, Albus manages to produce a half decent attempt at a Draught of Living Death. Normally it would be a lot better, but under the circumstances he's quite proud of it. It isn't a congealed mess at least, and he didn't set anything or anyone on fire. 

He cleans up in a rush, thanks Rose for saving him, half throws his finished flask at the teacher, and sprints from the room, running blindly for the Slytherin Dungeon.

When he arrives he gabbles the password, hurls himself up the creaky staircase, and bursts into the dorm, backpack bouncing, out of breath. Exactly two steps into the room he stops dead. 

Scorpius is there. His trunk is half unpacked, and there are clothes strewn on the floor and the bed. It's a familiar sight; he's always been a bit messy. But Scorpius himself doesn't look anything like he normally would. 

He's lying on his bed in the midst of all the chaos, swathed in a nest of blankets and screwed up robes and t-shirts, his cuddly toy bat, Bathilda, hugged to his chest. He's fast asleep, and it looks like he passed out halfway through unpacking, like he just couldn't manage it anymore. Albus can see that his face is sunken and even more pale than usual. There are shadows under his eyes, and he looks thin, frail even, like he's just a bag of bones and not much else. Albus is so used to seeing Scorpius healthy, and energetic, positively brimming over with life, that it's shocking, almost painful to look at. 

Albus tiptoes across to his own bed and starts repacking his bag for afternoon lessons. It seems cruel to wake Scorpius up now, so he might as well just get on with his day and talk to him later. At least he's seen him now. At least he knows he's alive. Just about.

He's busy figuring out how to fit two different Defence books, his quills and parchment, and a Charms book into his bag when he hears a familiar, sing-song voice murmur from the bed next to him.

"Albus..." 

Albus looks up to find Scorpius grinning at him. 

"Did I wake you?" Albus asks.

Scorpius shakes his head. "You should have though." He lifts himself up slightly from the bed and looks Albus up and down. "You look truly wonderful. Even better than I remembered."

Albus feels his cheeks heat, and he breaks into a broad smile, unable to help himself. "Thanks. You look absolutely awful." 

"About as good as I feel, then." Scorpius sits up very slowly, like his whole existence is painful. "Are you going to lunch?" 

"Yes I am," Albus says, sitting down on the edge of his bed and hugging his over-stuffed bag to his chest. "Do you want anything?"

"No. I'm coming with you." Scorpius sits Bathilda against his pillows and hauls himself off the bed, swaying slightly on his feet. "Give me a second to find my tie."

"Scorpius."

Scorpius ignores him. "And it's Defence and Charms this afternoon, correct? I'm still annoyed I slept through Potions."

"Scorpius," Albus repeats, rather more forcefully. 

Scorpius looks up at him, one hand on the bed post for support, the other fumbling with his green and silver tie. "Yes, Albus?" 

Albus swallows. "When I said you looked awful... I meant really, really awful. Are you okay? Should you be going to lessons? Shouldn't you just rest?"

Scorpius's face hardens with determination. "My body may be somewhat afflicted, but I assure you my mind is sound and incredibly bored. I have been lying down almost constantly for the last six weeks. If I stay here I might just finally lose it. And I've missed you, so." He gives a bright smile, and Albus can see the Scorpius-ness of him behind the tired, weak exterior. "Lessons it is! Very important year. I won't miss another minute of it." 

"I took notes for you," Albus says. "While you were away. I knew you'd hate missing so much. I made sure to write down all the things you'd be interested in." 

Scorpius glances up from where he's crouched on the floor, shoving books into his bag. "I really love you, you know that?" He grins and straightens up, throwing the bag over his shoulder. "Shall w-" He breaks off and sinks onto the bed like his knees have just buckled underneath him. From relatively fine to obviously unwell in an instant. His head falls onto his chest like he doesn't have the strength to hold it up, and his face contorts in intense pain. 

"Scorpius," Albus says in alarm. "Are you okay?" He gets up and crosses the room to sit next to Scorpius, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need me to fetch Madam Pomfrey?" 

Scorpius braces himself against the bed, tips of his fingers turning white as he presses them into the mattress. He shakes his head. "No. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Albus says, frowning at him.

"I will be though," Scorpius mutters through gritted teeth. "This happens." 

"This isn't something that's supposed to happen," Albus murmurs, squeezing his shoulder.

"I know," Scorpius growls. "I am very well aware that this isn't normal. I don't need you to remind me. Thanks." 

Albus lets go of his shoulder and reels back a few inches. "Sorry."

For a long moment Scorpius stays perfectly still, then he relaxes a bit and draws in a deep breath. He buries his face in his hands. "No," he murmurs. " _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to snap like that. It's... It's been a long few weeks and I just want things to be normal again." He looks up at Albus. "So can we go to lunch and class and pretend everything is fine? Please?" 

"But what if you-"

Scorpius looks at Albus and there's a hint of desperation in his eyes. " _Please_." 

Albus doesn't hesitate any longer before nodding. "Rose will be glad to see you. She's missed you too, you know." 

Scorpius smiles. "She really is starting to warm up to me, Albus. It's almost a shame I'm not especially interested anymore." He offers Albus his arm, and Albus takes it. As he does he feels Scorpius wince, so he tightens his grip a little and leans into Scorpius's body to offer him some support. 

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Scorpius murmurs.

"I think I might, actually," Albus replies, squeezing his arm. 


	2. Back to Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a relief for everyone to have Scorpius back at Hogwarts. But it quickly becomes clear that all is still not well with him…

The dorm is dark and perfectly still, apart from the two pinpricks of light glowing within Scorpius's tightly drawn, deep green hangings. It creates a cosy little emerald cave for two, warm, and comfortable, and safe. 

Scorpius is curled up on his side under his blankets, Bathilda the Bat cradled against his side, and Albus is sitting up beside him, leaning on the head rest. Both their wands are lit, and the soft white light makes Scorpius's hair glow silver. The conjured wall of quiet around them, courtesy of a 'Muffliato' from Scorpius, creates a warm barrier of privacy between them and the rest of the world. 

"You know," Scorpius says quietly, glancing up at Albus, "there were a couple of days when I really thought I might not come back here?" 

Albus looks down at him. "Was it that bad?" 

Scorpius nods solemnly. "There's nothing like thinking you'll never see somewhere again to make you appreciate it. Just being here is wonderful. This bed is so comfortable, and the food... Albus, I really hope you never have to eat hospital food. It's vile. I swear they had fish every other day, and you know how much I hate fish." He pulls a face of pure disgust. "You'd have thought they'd feed you well in a place where people are trying to get better from things, but apparently not. And now I'm here and it's like putting little bits of heaven in my mouth every time I eat anything."

Albus smiles. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. And I'm glad you're back too. It was lonely without you. Do you know how many classes I nearly missed because you weren't here to wake me up? And I definitely need your help with Transfiguration."

Scorpius looks up at him. "I would love nothing more than to help you. I think I missed the homework as much as anything else. When Flitwick set us that essay earlier I nearly cried with happiness."

"You weren't the only one who wanted to cry," Albus mutters.

Scorpius nudges his leg. "Seriously, Albus. I thought my brain was going to shrivel up and die. They wouldn't even let me read my owls. It was just rest. Constant rest. But now I'm free and it is _wonderful_." 

"I would have visited you," Albus says, reaching out and brushing his fingers through Scorpius's hair. It's warm and delightfully soft, and it's so nice to be able to touch it again. Scorpius closes his eyes, a contented smile on his face. 

"If I'd known you were so bored," Albus says, "I would have come and visited you every day."

"I'm not sure I'd have wanted you to see me like that," Scorpius murmurs. "You think I look awful now... it was a lot worse before." 

"But you're better now," Albus says, looking down at him. "You're here. And I know you're still hurting, but..." 

Scorpius nods. "I am better, you're right. And the pain isn't so bad..." he picks at his blankets. "It comes and goes, like I said. Most of the time it's okay. I can handle it. And then there are other times when..." he swallows. "When it's like it's coming in waves and I feel like I'm going to drown in it." 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Albus asks, smoothing a hand over his shoulder.

Scorpius looks up at him. "Hold my hand."

"Easy." Albus reaches out and takes both of them, squeezing them gently.

"And don't leave me."

Albus holds on tighter. "I would never-" 

"I know. I just didn't want to assume..." Scorpius looks away, down at their linked fingers. He pulls one of his hands free and toys with the cuff of his pyjama top. "I have to go back to the hospital this weekend. They want to do some tests or something." 

"Tests?" Albus asks in alarm. "What for?"

"I'm not really sure. To see if I'm getting better, I suppose." He shrugs, clearly avoiding Albus's eyes. 

Albus studies him for a moment. "You're worried." 

Scorpius swallows. "A little. I think given my family history... But I'm sure it will be fine." He looks up suddenly and gives Albus a very bright smile, almost too bright. Albus feels a bit sick at the sight of how falsely cheerful it is. 

"Anyway! Scorpius chirps. "Tell me about your exam results. Dad heard you did brilliantly last year, which you deserved to. You worked so hard."

Albus does his best to conjure up some enthusiasm as the conversation turns to more mundane topics. But as they talk he can't shake the faint sense of dread, and the feeling that Scorpius knows more about what's going on than he's willing to say. 

It's still nice though, talking, just the two of them, about whatever they can think of to say. Once they get started they don't stop until, halfway through an anecdote about James nearly knocking himself out with a broomstick, Albus realises Scorpius has fallen asleep. 

He looks so peaceful, glowing in the wand light, a little smile on his face, all wrapped up in the blankets. Albus is half tempted to stay with him, but he doesn't want to intrude, not when Scorpius so clearly needs rest, and never without permission. Instead he leans down and brushes a kiss on Scorpius's cheek, something he'd never dare do if Scorpius were awake. Then he Noxes both their wands, slides quietly out from behind the hangings, and returns to his own bed. There he lies on his side in the darkness and tries not to think about what Scorpius needing more tests might mean. 

 

Scorpius perches on the bannister at the top of the stairs overlooking the Entrance Hall. He's paying very little attention to the chaos going on around him, like the whirlwind of students is none of his business, even though technically he's supposed to be helping Rose instil some sort of order.

"Do you think I told him too much?" He asks, kicking his feet back and forward. "I didn't want to worry him."

"He's Albus," Rose replies distractedly, scanning the crowds of students. "He worries about everything. When you disappeared he thought Delphi had broken out of Azkaban and kidnapped you and your dad."

Scorpius smiles. "That sounds like the sort of thing he'd think."

"My point is, he'll worry whatever you tell him. Maybe you should-" She breaks off to yell at a couple of people on the stairs. "Will you two stop pushing? Everyone's going to get to dinner eventually. There's plenty of food." She glares at them as they look ashamed and continue down the stairs at a more sedate pace, then she rolls her eyes and turns back to Scorpius. "Maybe you should just be honest with him. You might be an excellent liar but Albus knows you better than anyone, he can read you like a book. And he's your boyfriend. Shouldn't you-"

"Correction," Scorpius says, leaning down towards her and gripping the bannister with both hands, so he doesn't fall off. "He is not my boyfriend. Not officially."

She shakes her head. "I still don't understand that."

"We decided we didn't want to ruin a perfectly decent friendship."

Rose points at him. "You two are weird." She shakes her head in despair. "Anyway. Shouldn't you tell him things? That's the point of friends. You can talk to them." 

"Sometimes..." Scorpius hugs himself and bounces his heels off a marble column. 

Rose surveys him for a moment, then waves him down. "You're being useless, Scorpius. Come and help me. We can talk in a minute."

Scorpius hops off the balcony. "I'm sick," he complains. "You're supposed to be nice to me."

"No, I'm not. You were the one who spent all day telling me how excited you are to yell at people again. Now's your chance."

They spread out and start directing traffic. The dinner rush is always a nightmare, especially in the first couple of weeks when the first years are still a little lost and likely to be crushed by the stampede. Luckily it thins out quickly, until just a few stragglers are left. Albus is among the last to come through.

He grins at them as he passes, and catches Scorpius's hand. "Dinner?" 

"Nothing could make me happier." Scorpius pulls him into a brief hug. 

Rose pretends to gag. 

"I'll see you in a minute then." Albus slips out of his grasp and disappears down the stairs. 

Scorpius watches him go for a moment, then, as he turns back to Rose he feels the pain start to flare up again. It starts somewhere in his chest, the way it always does, then spreads down his torso like every single one of his ribs is breaking. His lungs are on fire. His stomach aches. Beneath him his legs collapse, which is almost a relief because his head is overtaken by enough pain to make him see stars. It's sickening, and he presses his forehead against the cool stone floor for any kind of relief. 

He's felt a Cruciatus curse before, the worst kind of pain imaginable, that rips mercilessly through your body. Even that was better than this. At least he knew when that would end, how it would end, with either immediate death or a bit of respite. This is unpredictable. When he was in hospital it was like this for hours upon hours. 

Thankfully, this time it fades almost as quickly as it came, and he finds himself screwed up on the floor at the top of the Marble Staircase, breathing hard and clutching his chest. 

Rose is kneeling beside him with a look of immense concern on her face. " _This_ is what's wrong with you?"

Scorpius nods and starts trying to peel himself off the ground. He feels weak and his head is spinning. "Intense pain, whenever I'm least expecting it. It's not normally so bad."

Rose puts a hand on his arm and helps him sit up stairs. "Does Albus know about this?"

"I may have had a small moment in front of him the other day. Not like that though." He rubs his chest and tries to take deep breaths. The pain is receding, but he wishes it would do it faster.

"And these tests you're having..." Rose says. "I know curses usually skip a few generations, but..."

He looks up at her. "Yes, Rose. They do think I might have the same disease as my mum." 

Rose sits down very hard on the step beside him and says nothing, almost as if she's too stunned to speak. Scorpius takes the moment to arrange himself into a more comfortable position beside her. He continues with his deep, steady breathing, and the pain starts to seep away, becoming just a residual dull ache in his bones.

"When I was really ill," he says finally. "I felt..." He pulls his sleeves over his hands and stares down at them. "I felt the way Mum looked over that last summer. Sleeping all the time, too weak to do anything, no appetite. Just slowly fading away. But then I got better... I don't really understand why." He sighs and hugs his arms against his chest. "You know they can't figure out what's wrong with me? Apparently with Mum they diagnosed it straight away, but I don't think they even know yet with me. It's just some horrible mystery illness that might be slowly killing me and they have no idea how to stop it."

Rose's eyes shine bronze in the light from the lamp above them as she looks at him. "Are you scared?"

Scorpius shrugs. "I don't think there's any point in being scared. There's nothing I can do. It's either happening or it isn't. And Mum... she was scared but she tried not to let it affect how she lived her life."

"You're not your mum though."

"No," he says, looking down at his knees. "But I think she's an excellent person to emulate." He reaches out for the bannister and drags himself to his feet. Nothing hurts anymore and he only feels slightly dizzy, which is something.

"Where do you think you're going?" Rose asks, hopping up beside him, ready to catch him if he falls.

"I said I'd have dinner with Albus."

"Are you going to collapse again?" She asks, scrutinising him.

"I hope not. I'm starving." 

Rose pauses, then steps forward and hugs him tightly. "Look after yourself, Scorpius."

Scorpius hugs her back and feels a small twinge of pain that he manages to brush aside. "I promise I will." 

 

Draco Malfoy has spent an unfortunately large proportion of his adult life pacing anxiously around hospital rooms, and he's doing it again now. Scorpius sits cross-legged in the middle of the bed and tries to ignore him. There's a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay he needs to have done for Monday, and still hasn't finished reading all the theory, thanks to the classes he's missed. But it's almost impossible to concentrate on complicated spell theory when his dad's shoes are squeaking on the floor. 

After a couple of minutes he snaps his book shut and glares at him. "Dad. You see these chairs all around us? They're here for a reason. You're supposed to sit in them so you don't drive the person in the bed completely insane." 

Draco comes to a halt, takes a very deep breath, and sits in the chair beside Scorpius's bed, back rigid.  He clenches his hands in his lap. "Sorry."

Scorpius bows his head and flicks the pages of the book under his fingers. "It's not your fault," he mutters.

His dad looks at him. "You're frustrated. I understand. Your mother... It frustrated her too. The sitting around and waiting for answers. Not being able to get on with things. You were made for better things than this, both of you."

Scorpius stacks his books up carefully on the bed in front of him and looks up at his dad. "I'm sorry."

"What could you possibly have to be sorry for?"

"For getting sick? For putting you through this again. You already did this once with mum. It wasn't fair then, and now..." He waves a hand and shakes his head

"Life isn't fair, Scorpius. We both know that." His dad twists his hands together in his lap. "If there were some way of healing you, I would do it in a heartbeat. If I could bring your mother back... But there are things that can't be achieved with magic. Changing life and death... I know you understand that, as hard as it sometimes is to accept." 

Scorpius nods and starts fiddling with the edge of the bit of parchment in front of him, curling the corner up then flattening it back out until it's creased and rolling up. "Do you think..." he swallows and glances up. "Do you think I'm going to die, Dad?"

Draco looks at him, grey eyes hard with steely determination. "That's what we're here to find out. We're going to find out what's wrong with you, Scorpius, wherever we have to go, however long it takes. I will not let you suffer."

"And what if they don't know?" Scorpius asks, avoiding his eyes. "Or what if I'd rather just go to school with my friends and pretend everything's fine?"

His dad considers for several long seconds. "You're of age," he says finally. "You're old enough to make your own decisions. It took me an awfully long time to find happiness, and I don't want to keep you from yours. I doubt happiness for you is sitting in a room like this."

Scorpius looks around at it. He's always hated hospital rooms, and this one is no better than any of the others he's visited. "Not really." 

Draco nods. "Then if we fail to get any answers today we won't come back unless things deteriorate."

Scorpius looks up at him in surprise. "Are you sure?" 

"This is your life," his dad says, holding his gaze. "I'm not going to control it for you. I want you to find the things that make your life less murky in the time you have, however much time that may be." 

Scorpius looks at his dad for a moment, then says quite quietly, "I love you." 

Draco nods. "I love you too. And I am incredibly proud of your bravery. Your mother would have been too." 

Scorpius smiles and hugs one of his books to his chest. "Do you think?"

"She was always proud to call you her son. She loved you very much, and you are a- Scorpius?"

Scorpius's smile has faded. One of his hands is planted firmly on the bed and the other is pressed against his chest, where the burning pain has started blossoming outwards again. 

Draco gets to his feet and is at the door in two strides, calling down the hall. "We need a Healer in here. Immediately."

"Dad," Scorpius groans weakly. "It's okay. It's-"

"Don't speak," his dad says urgently, rushing back to him. "Save your energy. You should lie down." He puts a hand on Scorpius's back to support him. 

Scorpius doesn't have it in him to argue so he just curls up on the bed, his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay crumpled under his feet. His dad hovers by his shoulder until three Healers appear and start assessing him. Somewhere in his pain-addled brain he's glad they're here. If there were ever a moment to work out what's wrong with him this is it. Everything aches. He feels sick. He can't bear it. All he can do is screw his eyes tight shut, and grit his teeth and try not to throw up. 

"I'm right here, Scorpius," his dad murmurs from close by.

Scorpius nods and reaches for his hand. There's another wave of pain and he clings on, trying not to pass out. The Healers swarm around him, wands out, talking at him; asking questions he can barely manage to answer. It's another hour before he's left in any peace and the pain fades away. He falls asleep, still holding his dad's hand, and when he comes to another hour or so after that there's a Healer there waiting to talk to them.


	3. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the person you love might be dying it seems silly to waste any more time, doesn’t it?

The two boys skirt the edge of the lake, walking close enough together that their shoulders and hands occasionally brush. It's Sunday evening after dinner, and it's starting to get a little chilly as the sun sets. The sky is splashed with pink and deep blue, and the faces of the distant mountains are stained red. Long shadows creep down the lawn as they stroll along. 

"I cannot tell you how glad I am that I got back before dinner," Scorpius says. "I'm not sure I could have survived another night of hospital food. Last night it was some sort of mushy... Something. I nearly vomited it back up."

"I thought you were staying at home last night," he asks, glancing across at Scorpius, tone nonchalant.

Scorpius pauses in his stride, caught. "Yes," he says, scratching the back of his head. "Well. About that. There was a slight change of plans..."

Albus stops and eyes him. "What does that mean?" 

"I may have... had another small episode," Scorpius admits in a very small voice, avoiding looking at him. "But it's fine. I am fine. It really wasn't all that bad."

"Scorpius..." Albus says, with a note of warning. 

Scorpius decides truth is the best option here. "I ended up staying overnight," he says, then adds as an optimistic afterthought: "Which was actually a good thing. It made the tests easier. More accurate."

"And the tests..." Albus says hesitantly. "Did they say anything- Are things- Are you-"

"I don't know." Scorpius gives a little shrug and looks down at the floor as they set off walking. He scuffs his toes in the grass and digs his hands into his pockets. "I'm not sure they have any idea what's wrong with me. The tests were useless, really. I think..." He hesitates, then glances sideways at Albus. "I think they're assuming I have my mum's disease. Because there isn't a better explanation."

"But you don't think you do." It isn't a question; there's a confident weight to it. 

Scorpius looks away from him, up at the dark shadow of the forest that looms further down the sloping lawns. "Anything could be wrong with me, Albus. Mum's disease is supposed to skip generations. That's not supposed to be affect me. This could just be some weird strain of Dragon Pox for all anyone knows. At the moment it's all just guesswork and speculation." He folds his arms across his chest and tucks his fingers against his body, making himself as small as possible. 

"But you're getting better," Albus says, full of determined certainty. "In the end it doesn't really matter what's wrong, does it? If you're getting better?" 

Scorpius swallows but doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say; he doesn't want to contradict Albus, doesn't want to counter Albus's confidence in him, and in healing in general. It's easier to let him believe what he wants to. 

The evening chill creeps into Scorpius's bones as they walk along in silence, and he hunches in on himself, shivering slightly. It's really starting to get cold out here now. 

Albus looks at him, a frown creasing his forehead. "You are... you are getting better, aren't you?" The confidence is gone now. He sounds hesitant instead, concerned and fragile. Scorpius wants nothing more than to be able to reassure him with a confident 'of course I am', but he can't lie to his best friend.

"I don't know," he says softly, barely glancing up. Albus is almost in shadow now anyway. There's no point looking at him. 

"But..." Albus pauses, shaking his head. "But you're my best friend. You have to get better. I mean... what happens if you don't get better? You'd be in pain. You'd be sick. You might..." He pauses, like he can't bring himself to say the word. 

Scorpius realises with some disappointment that apparently he's one of the people who struggle with death, probably because he's never really had to face it before. He's seen Craig die of course, and his grandparents, but none of those really count much for him. Lily and James were probably too abstract, more concepts than people. And Craig was an acquaintance at best. It's not as if Albus has had to sit and watch his mother fade away in front of him the way Scorpius has.

"You can say it," Scorpius murmurs. "It's just a word. It doesn't mean anything. 'Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself'."

"Dumbledore," Albus says. "He told my dad that."

"Yes." Scorpius blows on his fingers to try and warm them up. "Pretty wise man, your namesake."

"So. So... what happens if you don't... I mean... if you don't get better?" Albus pauses and takes a breath. "What do I do?"

"What do you mean, what do you do?"

"I mean..." Albus wraps his cloak around himself and looks across at Scorpius. There's a sliver of silver moon out now, reflecting on the ruffled water of the lake. It makes his eyes glitter in the darkness. "What do I do without you? I tried living without you once and it was... It was pretty horrible. Do I just have to do that again forever?"

Scorpius shrugs. "I don't know. What you do isn't really my problem since I'll be dead."

Albus freezes in his tracks, staring. His green eyes are wide, and he's gone completely white, but maybe that's just the moonlight on his face. 

"Sorry," Scorpius says with a quiet sigh. "That was a stupid thing to say." He stops and buries his face in his hands, then turns to face Albus. "I think... when someone dies you're just meant to carry on. I don't really know. I'm still figuring it out. Maybe you should ask my dad. Not that he's figured it out either... I really hope it isn't something you have to worry about, but... I don't know. It's not as if you can just stop existing because someone you love went away."

"I do love you," Albus says. "You know that, don't you?" His expression has changed now. The shock has faded away, replaced with a new kind of intensity and determination. Determination is something which regularly graces Albus's face. It looks good on him. 

"Of course. And I love you too," Scorpius says. "You're a great friend and-"

"No," Albus insists. "I _love_ you, Scorpius."

Scorpius blinks at him. "Is this because I told you I might be dying? Albus, you can't just throw yourself at people impulsively when you think you're going to lose them. That isn't a good way to give yourself a happy life."

Albus shakes his head in defiance "It's not because of that. I mean. It is a little bit because of that. But, Scorpius, I want to be with you. I always have. I've been in love with you since... Pretty much as long as I can remember. And I know we said we didn't want to ruin our friendship. But maybe it's time to just... Throw caution to the winds and do something stupid."

"Yes," Scorpius says, rubbing his hands together. "Well you're pretty good both of those things."

"You're right here, Scorpius. You're here, and you're alive. And so am I." Albus whirls around, gesturing to the whole world, like he's outlining all the opportunities they have. "Imagine if we just didn't do anything. Imagine if we stayed friends for the rest of our lives and never even tried." He steps in closer and takes hold of Scorpius's hands. "I know that everything we do is a disaster, but maybe this will be different. Wouldn't you regret it forever if we didn't do this?" He looks wild. Hair ruffled, cheeks pink from the biting breeze that's now swirling across the lake, eyes sparkling, so much energy buzzing through him. It's an irresistible sight.

Scorpius nods and looks away. "Quite possibly. Yes. But that doesn't mean it's a good idea. Won't it make it hurt more if I-"

Albus kisses him. He puts a hand on either side of Scorpius's face, confident and somehow warm despite the frigid evening air. He stretches up on tiptoes and kisses him hard, nothing held back. Clutching and clinging and desperate. It's forthright, but that's okay. Scorpius enjoys how Albus doesn't wait around. He takes what he wants. And this... this is something Scorpius is quite happy to give him.

He wraps his arms round Albus and kisses back for a moment before pulling away. "Okay," he says a little breathlessly. "You've never done that before. Not sober, anyway."

"I should have done it a long time ago." He takes Scorpius's hands, and Scorpius holds onto him. "But I don't have to do it again. Not if you don't want me to."

Scorpius looks down at their hands and tries to gather his thoughts. It isn't easy with a dull ache of pain flaring up in his chest, and Albus standing that close. Albus's proximity has never been good for encouraging rational thought, but maybe Scorpius doesn't need to be rational now. Sometimes you're supposed to follow your heart, aren't you? And Scorpius's heart is definitely offering him a very clear direction.

"Okay," he says finally. "You're right. Time is a-wasting. And if that's how you always kiss I won't try and deprive myself."

Albus nods, eyes shining with moonlight and hope. "Okay."

"You know," Scorpius says thoughtfully, squeezing his hands. "There's probably an alternate reality where we've been making out this entire time?"

Albus's face breaks into a broad smile. "For obvious reasons, I'm not a massive fan of alternate realities. But maybe I could be convinced by that one."

"Let's just make it this reality," Scorpius says. "You and me. Both of us alive, for now. A couple. And we make out. Regularly."

"Both of us alive full stop," Albus corrects. 

"Albus..."

"I don't want to think about you dying, Scorpius. You make it sound like it's inevitable, and I don't want it to be. The idea of my boyfriend dying is terrifying." 

Scorpius blinks at him. "Wait... Boyfriend?" 

Albus looks confused. "Wasn't that the whole point of that conversation?"

Scorpius looks at Albus. Their breath mists and mingles in the air between them. "I don't know. I hadn't thought that far ahead... 

"We don't have to be if you don't want," Albus says quickly, holding his hands up. "Sorry if I assumed-"

"I do want," Scorpius says, scrambling to reassure him. "It was just a surprise. A very pleasant surprise. One that I wasn't entirely prepared for. You have this habit of springing things on me without warning. I like it, but it isn't always good for my heart."

Albus smiles sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be." They fall into an awkward silence for a moment. Scorpius starts hugging himself again. He's shivering violently now, teeth chattering. Not bringing a cloak on this walk was a terrible mistake. 

Albus apparently notices, because he pulls his own cloak off and drapes it around Scorpius's shoulders. "We should go inside. It's freezing out here."

"I think I'm about to turn into an ice cube," Scorpius says, wrapping the cloak tight around his body. It's still warm with Albus's heat. The second best thing to getting a hug from him. "I think the cold doesn't agree with me now I'm ill. It makes my fingers go numb."

Albus puts an arm around his shoulders and starts shepherding him back toward the castle. They lean into each other, and Scorpius wraps the edge of the cloak around Albus. There isn't really enough of it to go around, but he feels bad keeping the whole thing to himself. Albus smiles at him, and presses closer. It makes it difficult to walk but otherwise it's a thoroughly pleasant experience.

As they reach the front steps of the castle and start walking back up into the golden light and glowing warmth of the entrance hall, Scorpius nudges his shoulder against Albus's.

"We'll get more answers," he says. "I'm not sure how but we will. Then maybe we won't have to be so terrified."

Albus glances up at him. "You're scared too, then?"

Scorpius nods. "A little bit. I think it's the not knowing. It'd be nice to have some information."

Albus squeezes him tightly. "Maybe we can look for some answers together. Rose could help too. She's good at looking for things." There's a reassuring confidence in his voice. "We're going to work this out, Scorpius. It might not be possible to find out what's wrong with you, but we're going to try. Because I'm not sure there's anyone I know who more deserves to live a long and happy life than you do."

In the light streaming from the castle doors and away down the lawn, a long streak of home and safety in the black night, Scorpius kisses him.

 

Scorpius stands on tiptoes and peers over the heads of the crowd clogging up the doorway to the Great Hall. "This is ridiculous," he tuts. "I'm blaming you for this." 

"Me?" Albus says indignantly. "Why is it my fault there's a queue?" 

"If you hadn't slept in for so long..." 

Albus rolls his eyes. "You were the one who wanted to stay up talking half the night."

Scorpius waves a dismissive hand at him. "Details, details." He puts a hand on Albus's shoulder and pushes himself up until he's as tall as he can get. "This is stupid. I need food. For medical reasons." 

Albus looks up at him. "Do you?"

Scorpius grins at him and shrugs. "I don't know. But it's a good excuse, isn't it? Come on." He grabs Albus by the hand and tugs him headlong into the crowd. 

"Scorpius! What are you doing? We can't go anywhere!" 

Scorpius doesn't stop. He ploughs straight through all the people. "Excuse me," he says. "Head Boy, coming through. I need to see Professor McGonagall before class starts. Excuse me. Thank you." 

"You're such a liar!" Albus calls, laughing as he squeezes through the gap left in Scorpius's wake. "You are a terrible person." 

"Malfoy the Unanxious is a pretty good liar," Scorpius sing-songs, glancing back at him. In his moment of distraction he nearly steam-rolls a pair of tiny first year Hufflepuffs. "Whoops!" he says. "Sorry." 

"You're going to trample someone!" 

"Quite possibly!"

As they shove through the crowd there's a good deal of irritable muttering, and Albus is certain this isn't going to be good for their popularity, but somehow, as they spill through the doors into the Great Hall and rush, giggling, to their usual seats at the Slytherin table, he can't bring himself to care too much. 

"You know," Albus says, helping himself to toast, while Scorpius pours a veritable snowstorm of sugar on top of his bowl of Cheeri Owls. "You're still scary when you're in a good mood. Is this a new stage of your illness? Hyperactive delirium?" 

Scorpius considers, then shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. I just feel good. Possibly because I'm no longer single... Life as a taken man is treating me rather well I think." 

Albus snorts. "We've barely been together for twelve hours. How do you even know how it's treating you?" 

Scorpius gestures up and down the table. "There's no fish, Albus. Not a single fish anywhere. This is the best breakfast ever. And we have Defence Against the Dark Arts today, so you're going to be in a good mood. It's going to be an excellent day, I can feel it in my bones."

Albus smiles and shakes his head. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Scorpius picks a Cheeri Owl out of his bowl, tosses it up in the air, and catches it in his mouth. "You've mentioned it." He picks up his spoon and digs it into the cereal. "You know, ever since I was in hospital I've felt rather excellent. It's inexplicable. I mean, apart from you. I suppose you explain everything." He gives Albus a smile, and a bit of milk dribbles down his chin. Immediately he ducks his head and starts trying to clean himself up. 

Albus gives him a fond yet despairing look. "The cereal is meant to stay in your mouth, Scorpius. You're not supposed to tip it down your front." 

Scorpius, mouth full, makes a rude gesture at him across the table. 

Albus grins and chews on his toast. 

They're both munching in happy silence when Rose comes skipping across the hall towards them. She drapes her arms round Scorpius's shoulders and hugs him. 

"Good morning. I see my favourite Head Boy is back." She leans down next to Scorpius and looks at him. "How are you?"

He turns round in his seat and beams at her. "I am exceptional, thank you." 

She ruffles his hair. "How were the tests?" 

"Inconclusive," he says brightly. "But that doesn't matter. How are you, Rose?"

She scrutinises him. "I'm alright. What's going on with you? You're very smiley." She looks across at Albus, who had been grinning at Scorpius, enjoying the silver shine of the sunlight on his hair. "You too."

Albus holds his hands up and tries to stop smiling. "I'm just eating my breakfast." He tears off a bit of toast crust with his teeth, to make the point.

"You're not," Rose says, giving him a very hard look. "You're being weird." She gestures between the two of them. "What's happened? What are you not telling me?" 

Albus looks at Scorpius, who nods expectantly at him. 

"Why do I have to-?" Albus asks.

Scorpius puts a big spoonful of cereal in his mouth, and this time manages an angelic smile without dribbling everywhere. 

Albus sighs. "Fine. We're going out now." 

Scorpius chokes and nearly spits milk all over the table in his rush to swallow the mouthful of cereal. "Do you have..." he splutters, "to be so undramatic about it?" He turns round in his seat, draws himself up very straight, and raises his arms in a grand gesture. "Rose, during a romantic stroll by the lake at sunset last night, I asked Albus Severus to be my boyfriend. And thankfully he said yes."

Rose lights up and claps her hands together. "I knew it! I knew this would happen eventually. I'm so happy." She flings her arms round Scorpius, who squawks and tries to wriggle free.

"We're quite happy too," Albus murmurs, looking across at his flailing boyfriend with a smile.

 

Late summer shifts into autumn, turning the green leaves of the forest a crisp gold. Shadows lengthen on the lawns, and the sun pales and weakens as the days shorten and cool. The castle stands resplendent in orange afternoon sunlight. Blood red sunsets stain the Great Hall windows, and dinners begin to take place under more grey skies, more wet skies, more darkness.

Scorpius and Albus quietly revel in each other's company. The best moments come late at night when they curl up together behind their hangings and talk until they fall asleep. Nothing much has really changed between them except a warm glow of happiness, and the fact that intimacy is now associated with romance, rather than uncertainty. 

It's a really good few weeks. Scorpius isn't completely well but he handles the pain and he seems truly happy. Albus almost stops worrying about him, and certainly the immediate concern that his best friend -- his _boyfriend_ \-- might be dying fades gradually from his mind. It's difficult to think someone so solid and joyful and brimming over with life might be on the way to death. 

As always, the October Hogsmeade weekend sends a swell of excitement through the whole school from third year up. Even Albus is looking forward to it. He's never felt the need to visit the village before, but his dad had sent another permission form to McGonagall halfway through fourth year, so he's always known he could go if he wanted to. In the past he's been too proud to admit he might want to use that form; he's always spent the time in the library catching up on homework instead. But this weekend is different. This weekend will be his first official, proper date, to somewhere outside the school, with Scorpius.

It's nothing exceptional, nothing they wouldn't have done before, but it's nice. They go to Honeydukes and argue about the best sweets, they walk up to the Shrieking Shack and Scorpius listens enrapt as Albus recounts every story he's ever been told about Remus Lupin and the other Marauders. They end up in the Three Broomsticks where they both drink far too much Butterbeer. It fills them up with a golden glow, like rays of sunshine warming them from the inside out, and it's just so drinkable. By the time they head back to the castle they're both a tiny bit buzzed. Not drunk, there isn't nearly enough alcohol for that, but certainly high on sweet sugar and each other's company.

They stumble into their dorm and no one else is there, so they put their arms around each other. It's nice not having to tone down their affection for once. 

Scorpius kisses Albus on the cheek, then falls onto his bed. He doesn't let go of Albus as he does it, so Albus has no choice but to fall with him, and they end up tangled together on the soft mattress, a giggling mess of limbs.

"What are you doing in my bed?" Scorpius asks, grinning.

"I don't know," Albus replies. "You're the one who put me here." He wriggles into a more comfortable position, straddling one of Scorpius's thighs. "I think I'd like to stay here though, if you don't mind."

"I couldn't mind less if I tried," Scorpius says, putting both his hands on Albus's hips. 

Albus resists the urge to flop down on top of him and instead stays hovering there, gazing down at his face, at the grey eyes that are shining with joy, and the soft pink lips stretched into a wide smile, and all that platinum hair that's ruffled across the pillow. 

Albus will never not love the sight of Scorpius Malfoy spread out beneath him.

"So I'm just going to kiss you now," he murmurs.

"I'm yours to do with as you wish," Scorpius replies. 

Albus grins and leans in. He flattens himself against Scorpius's body and gets his hands in as much of that beautiful blond hair as he can. Scorpius opens up beneath him, relaxed and pliant. 

It's luxurious and lazy, just the way a Saturday afternoon should be. Every kiss is long and ponderous, and Scorpius runs a hand slowly up Albus's back, like he's trying to feel every single bone and muscle and sinew. It's certainly the sort of kissing best left to late evenings, shut behind heavy hangings and a couple of Muffliato spells, rather than in an open dorm when anyone could walk in at any moment, but neither of them can bring themselves to care. Let the world see. It isn't as if they're trying to keep their togetherness a secret.

"I love you," Scorpius gasps out between gradually heating kisses, as they move from laziness towards intent. "I've said it a hundred times and I will keep saying it. I love you. There isn't a person I love more in the world than you. You're my best friend. I've come so close to losing you so many times already, and I'm never going to let it happen again, because we belong together." 

Albus appreciates the sentiment, he really does, but it's a very frustrating outpouring of love, because while Scorpius is talking he can't very easily be kissed.

"Sshh," Albus says. "Talk later."

"You know I never shut up, Albus," Scorpius says, flattening his head against the pillow and grinning up at him, lips all pink, cheeks flushed. "Aren't you used to this by now? I want to speak sonnets about my love for you. I want to sing it from the top of the astronomy tower. How Scorpius Malfoy is in love with Albus Severus Potter."

"Please," Albus says, almost begging. "Kiss me. If you won't, I'll just-" he starts kissing his way down Scorpius's neck. Scorpius's head is tilted back onto the pillow, so the pale stretch of skin is perfectly exposed. Albus can hear him responding the way he always does so beautifully, with a series of little high-pitched gasps like Albus is stealing his breath away over and over again. Good sounds, the best sounds, sounds of pure pleasure.

It's all so good that Albus almost isn't aware of it starting to go wrong. But the way Scorpius's hand suddenly clenches tight on the back of his shirt, the pained little whimper of his name, the way Scorpius's whole body goes tense all of a sudden... Those are the signs and they're enough.

Albus lifts his head, frowning. "Is this okay?" 

Scorpius looks wrecked. His lips are bruised and his hair is everywhere. His cheeks are pink, or at least they are to start with, but as Albus looks they slowly drain of colour, and Scorpius's face goes taught with intense pain.

"Albus," he gasps. "Help."

Albus gets off him and kneels next to him on the bed. "How? What do you need?"

Scorpius shakes his head and rolls onto his side. His hands uncurl from Albus's shirt and clutch desperately at his heart instead. "Don't... Know. Albus. I'm sorry." He breathes the last two words, then his eyes roll up in his head and he goes limp on the bed, entirely unconscious.

Albus, stunned, shakes his shoulder. "Scorpius. Scorpius, stop it. Come on. Wake up." When there's no response he starts to panic. His hands are shaking as he tries to work out whether Scorpius is still breathing, whether his heart is beating, but his mind has gone blank and he can't remember how.

He gathers Scorpius into his arms and starts shouting, because it's all he can do. "Help! Someone, please. We need help!"

Why is the dorm so quiet on a Saturday afternoon? Where is everyone? There should be at least five people thundering up the stairs to help them right now but there's no one. No one up here at least, but there must be someone in the Common Room.

Albus hesitates. He doesn't want to leave Scorpius alone, not in this state, but he's not sure he has a choice. He can't drag Scorpius downstairs with him, and no one's coming to help them. 

Reluctantly he lets go of Scorpius and sprints for the door. He clatters down the stairs, almost falling on the way. He doesn't even look to see if there's anyone in the Common Room, just screams into the emerald gloom. 

"We need help. We need Madam Pomfrey. Professor McGonagall. Anyone. Please. Please!"

There's no one. Nothing. No response. They're completely alone in this dungeon.

Albus runs into the room and looks around but the whole place is utterly deserted. Everyone must be in Hogsmeade or out in the grounds. It's never been so quiet, and it's never been so important that there are people around. 

Albus turns in a circle in the middle of the empty room and rakes his hands through his hair, then he sinks hopelessly onto the nearest sofa and buries his face in his hands. 

He could run through the whole castle looking for people but how long would that take? And the whole time Scorpius is up there, possibly fading away. But he can't just give up. Can't just sit here. That's not going to help anyone.

He runs his shaking hands through his hair again and tries to pull himself together. This is a crisis and he's supposed to be good in a crisis. He's supposed to be the calm one in a crisis, and here he is about to cry, barely able to breathe, panicking.

"Excuse me young man."

Albus looks up. At first, through the blur of tears, he thinks there's no one there, but then he blinks twice and finally spots a figure in one of the portraits on the walls watching him curiously.

"Is everything okay?" 

Albus gets up. "No. No it isn't." He rushes out of his seat and bumps his way clumsily through the maze of sofas and coffee tables towards the portrait.

"You're the Potter boy, aren't you? There's never been a Potter in Slytherin before. Quite a curiosity you are."

"I need help," Albus says, ignoring him. "I need Madam Pomfrey immediately. Someone's sick. Scorpius. Tell her he's collapsed."

"Scorpius?" The portrait frowns. "Scorpius Malfoy?"

"Yes," Albus says.

"He's had another episode? But things have been going so well."

"I know, I-" Albus stops and stares. "Wait, how do you know about his illness?"

The man shrugs. "I hear things from my other portrait in the Manor sometimes."

"In the- You're a Malfoy?" 

The figure in the painting nods. "Don't panic, young Potter. Wait with Scorpius. I'll fetch Poppy. She'll be here soon."

"Thank you," Albus breathes, relief flooding him. Someone is going to help. "Thank you, sir."

"I will return." 

The figure disappears from the painting. For a heartbeat Albus stands there, feeling very very alone and very very afraid, then he turns and climbs back up the stairs to sit with Scorpius.


	4. St Mungo's Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius is back in St Mungo's, Draco is settling in for the long haul, and Albus is worrying. But being in hospital is giving Scorpius lots of time to think, and he's started to come up with a theory for what might be causing his illness...

Albus tumbles out of the fireplace in a cloud of ash. He's exhausted. He feels very hungry and very sick all at the same time, and there's a deep sense of numbness running through his whole body. Weakly he picks himself up off his parents' rug and dusts the soot from his clothes. He's ruined the rug, and although he could clean it, he has no idea where his wand is, and wouldn't even know where to start with casting a spell right now. 

He feels shaky and confused. Like he's waking out of some terrible nightmare, or a fever. In a daze he just stands there in front of the fireplace, unsure of what to do with himself. He's on the verge of collapsing onto the rug when feels a very warm and familiar pair of arms wrap around him.

"Albus."

"Mum," he whispers, voice cracking. 

He looks up into her warm, brown eyes, at the deep kindness and concern in her face, and he can't hold himself together any longer. Everything he's been holding in all evening, the terror and panic and desperation, the powerlessness and lack of control – everything he's repressed through sitting with Scorpius in the dormitory, and then the Hospital Wing, seeing Scorpius be taken back to St Mungo's, talking to Professor McGonagall, and finally packing his things in the silent, lonely dormitory, desperate to get away from Scorpius's empty bed and the horrible memories of earlier – it all comes flooding out in one heartbroken cascade. Albus buries himself in his mum's arms and dissolves into gasping, desperate sobs. 

She squeezes him tightly and brushes her fingers through his hair. "Oh, Albus," she murmurs. "Come here." 

She guides him across to the sofa and they sink onto it together. Albus is taller than her these days, but he still manages to curl up into a tiny ball against her side, and she rocks him as he cries, the way she used to when he was younger, if he was sick, or had had a fight with James or his dad. 

They'd sat like this the night before he first went to Hogwarts. He'd been so scared, too scared to be at all excited. Everything had been weighing him down: his sorting, living up to his dad, James's constant teasing, having to make friends, the fear of failure... And that night he'd poured it all out to her, and she'd held onto him just like this. He's grown up so much since that day, almost into a different person entirely, but he needs her just as much now as he did back then.

"Mum," he whispers finally. His tears have started to dry up, but his face is soaking and his head aches. He tries to sit up, and he wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie. "I-I was really scared." He looks at her, and she nods. 

"I can imagine." She passes him a tissue, then rubs his knee comfortingly as he blows his nose and mops at his face. 

"He-he was fine," he says. "It was- it was really good. Everything was going really well. A-and then it wasn't anymore, and..." he sniffs and shakes his head. "I-I just want to know. I need to know he's going to be okay. I don't want to... to..." he can't say it, so he just leans back against his mum's side, and she wraps an arm round him.

"He's in the best place now," she says, rubbing his back. "There are plenty of people looking after him. He's in good hands. And his dad is there." She gives him a little smile. "I can't imagine his dad will let any harm come to him, can you?"

Albus shakes his head. The idea of anything harming Scorpius with Draco around is ludicrous. If there's anything he can do to keep Scorpius safe and healthy, it'll be done. 

"I trust those Healers," his mum continues. "They saved your granddad's life once, and I'd certainly trust them with mine. I'd even trust them with yours, if I had to." 

Albus sniffs. "Wasn't that the time Dad had a dream about Granddad being bitten by a snake?"

His mum nods.

"I wish he'd have a dream about how to save Scorpius..." Albus mutters bitterly. 

His mum pats him on the shoulder and gives him a squeeze. He curls his feet up onto the sofa and puts his head on her shoulder.

"I can still go and visit him tomorrow, can't I?" Albus asks. "I want to see him."

"Your dad's said he'll take you, and he's happy to stay as long as you want." 

"Okay." He wipes his eyes on the back of his sleeve, then remembers the tissue and blows his nose noisily. After that they fall into a long silence, the house still around them. Normally it's so full of noise and people, but now it's midnight; Harry isn't home yet, and James and Lily are still at Hogwarts. Albus can't remember it ever being so empty before. 

"Mum..." he says after a while. "Do you think..." he takes a breath. "I keep wondering if- if maybe this is my fault?"'

His mum twists in her seat so she can frown at him. "Why would you possibly think this could be your fault?" 

Albus shrugs and stares miserably down at his hands. "I don't know. Just... well, he seems to be worse around me. He's been fine for ages, but today when we spent the whole day together... And a lot of the bad things in his life have been my fault. It was my fault when he ended up in the world with Voldemort. It was my fault when Delphi tortured him. Maybe... maybe this is my fault too." 

He looks at his mum, and she gives him a very stern look. "Albus Severus Potter, I've heard you say a lot of ridiculous things in your life, but that might be one of the most ridiculous ever." She brushes her fingers through his hair, and shakes her head like she can't believe him. "You've done nothing to Scorpius except be his best friend for years. I know you've had your moments, but everyone has those. There were times in school when your father didn't talk to your Uncle Ron for weeks, and they're still best friends." She looks at him and sighs, gathering him into another tight hug. "Scorpius being sick has nothing to do with anything you have or haven't done. I want you to understand that." 

"But-"  

"No." She pushes him to arm's length and holds him there so they can see each other. "Look at me. None of this is your fault. There is no possible way you can be to blame. You and your father have this strange tendency to take everything on your own shoulders, but not this time. Okay?" 

Albus looks at her for a long moment, wanting to believe her, trying to take her words to heart. Finally he nods. "Okay." 

He twists round on the sofa and sits with his feet on the floor. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched, staring down at the floorboards. "We were having a really good day," he murmurs. "We went to Hogsmeade together. It's the first time I've been to Hogsmeade, and I liked it a lot. I didn't think I would... but then we came back to school, and we were in our room, and he just... there was _nothing_ I could do." He swallows and picks miserably at a tear in the knee of his jeans, then he glances up at his mum. 

"It was a date," he says, voice small and uncertain and sad. He knows she won't be upset, she's known for years that he prefers guys, but that doesn't make it easier to say. Especially now she knows how spectacularly wrong the whole thing went. "I-I don't think I got round to telling you, but he's my boyfriend now. I..." he pulls at the loose thread on his knee. "I love him. A lot. And now I might lose him." 

His mum shuffles closer to him on the sofa and hugs him fiercely. "You can see him tomorrow, sweetheart. And I know it's hard, but try not to worry yourself silly. He doesn't seem the type to give up without a fight. You've found yourself a really strong one there. I think you're very lucky." She ruffles his hair. "And he's lucky to have you too." 

Albus screws his face up as she touches his hair, but his attempt to duck away from her is half-hearted at best. 

"Anyone would be lucky to have you," Ginny says, smiling at him. "And I'm sure he's going to need you right now. You're going to need each other."

"I'm going to try and do a good job for him," Albus murmurs. 

"I have no doubt. Now." She pats him on the shoulder. "How do you feel about cocoa before bed? Your dad will be home soon, and I'm sure he'd like some too." 

There's an easy mundanity to standing side by side in the kitchen making cocoa. After the events of the last few hours it's a welcome distraction. But when Albus goes to bed later, and the house is dark and quiet, it's impossible not to let his mind race. He doesn't sleep well, and when he gets up in the morning he feels nothing but exhaustion and dread.

 

Harry paces up and down the corridor outside Scorpius's room. He checks his watch – it's only been a minute since he last looked at it – and digs his hands in his pockets. There's nothing to do out here other than pace. Even paperwork would be better than this, and he wishes he'd thought to bring some of his mountain of files from the Ministry with him. But as bored as he is, he knows he can't wander off and abandon the boys, and he can't go in and speak to them either. He knows they need at least fifteen minutes of privacy. That's what he'd promised them, and he isn't going to interrupt. 

He sighs and turns on his heel once more, scuffing his toe on the floor. Someone walks down the corridor behind him, shoes squeaking on the floor, and Harry glances over his shoulder to see Draco Malfoy standing in the corridor behind him. 

"What are you doing here, Potter?" 

Harry turns to face him. He looks awful, empty and tired, like he's expended all his emotion. He's very pale, apart from the dark circles under his eyes that make it obvious he hasn't slept. Even his usually immaculate hair is just a bit unkempt, a few strands coming free from their bonds. Harry doesn't know why, but he feels a little surprised by Draco's appearance. He'd imagined that Draco would be used to this by now, given his experiences with Astoria, and how ill Scorpius has been. He'd have thought Draco would know how to remain pristine and put together and impressive despite everything. To hide all signs of fatigue and emotional distress. But maybe this isn't the sort of thing anyone ever gets used to. 

Harry gestures over his shoulder at the door to Scorpius's room. "Albus wanted to visit. Someone had to bring him, and I'm free so I said I would." 

Draco nods and adjusts his cuffs. "Of course. So now you're skulking around the corridors, getting under people's feet." 

Harry pushes his glasses up his nose and tries not to be irritated. Even now they're friends, Draco can still be infuriating at times. "This is a public place, Draco. I just wanted to give our sons some privacy. I'm not trying to get in your way." 

"You may not be trying, but you're succeeding." 

Harry looks at him, at the dull grey of his eyes, at the slight creases in his robes, and he lowers his voice. "Are you okay?" 

For a long moment, Draco surveys him. "Why are you so insufferably obtuse?" He shakes his head and brushes past Harry, not waiting for an answer. His hand is on the door to the room before Harry can block him.

"Wait," Harry says. 

Draco glares at him. "That's my son's room. You can't stop me going in." 

"I promised Albus I'd give them fifteen minutes," Harry says. "And they've only had ten. Please."

For a long moment, Draco gives him a very hard stare. Then he turns away, rubbing his forehead and continuing to shake his head, and leans against the wall.

Harry stands awkwardly in the middle of the corridor and puts his hands back into his pockets. "How is he?" He asks finally. 

Draco shrugs and stares at the door. There's a pane of glass in the top half, but the blinds are closed, so they can't see in. "About as well as you'd think."

"Do they know what's wrong with him?" Harry asks. "Have they worked out anything-"

"Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?" Draco asks, smoothing one of the creases out of his robes. 

"Sorry," Harry mutters. 

"You should be." Draco folds his hands behind his back and stares down at the grey floor. "They don't know anything. What's wrong, how to treat it... you'd think they'd be competent, these Healers, with all their training. But they don't know half the things they need to. I expect Scorpius to maintain a higher standard when he joins them next year." 

"It must be frustrating," Harry says, in what he hopes is a sympathetic tone.

"Frustrating, infuriating, difficult..." Draco looks across at him. "It's almost as bad as trying to maintain a friendship with you." 

Harry smiles. "Almost as bad?" 

"Maybe a little worse," Draco concedes.

Harry bows his head and inspects his hands. "I really am sorry, Draco. I can't imagine... The worst we ever had was that summer James had Dragon Pox."

"Famous Harry Potter and his exceptionally easy adult life," Draco murmurs. He pushes off the wall and paces a few steps down the corridor. "Astoria... when she was ill... she would always say I was in danger of spending more time here than I did at home. There was one day, just before she... well, she told me once I was free of this place I should go and finish renovating the East Wing... It's still not done. And here we are again. One day they'll start charging me rent." His smile is rather shaky, and he spares Harry only the shortest glance before looking back down at his shoes. "But there's nothing I can do about it. As long as Scorpius needs me here, this is where I'll be." 

"Albus feels the same," Harry says. "It was a struggle to keep him from coming straight here last night. He was up at five this morning, ready to go. I can't imagine it'll be easy to persuade him to go back to school on Monday." 

"If there's one positive thing to come from all this," Draco says, pacing past the door and glancing at the window. "It's that it's proven how loyal Scorpius's friends are. Albus in particular."

"Albus loves him," Harry says simply. "He's going to stay with Scorpius until the bitter end..." He runs a hand through his hair and glances at Draco. "You know, Ginny told me that our sons... I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you this. I don't know if Scorpius- But I think you should know. Apparently they're dating. Albus and Scorpius are. Albus told Ginny last night." 

Draco's lip curls into the most joyous smirk Harry has seen from him during their entire conversation, and the sparkle rekindles in his eyes. "It constantly astounds me how the most successful Auror of our generation is always the last to know about anything going on right under his nose. Perhaps you spend too much time catching dark wizards, and not enough paying attention to your family." 

Harry draws himself up tall, feeling rather injured. "Yes, well that might be true... But you really already knew about this?" 

Draco nods. "Scorpius told me a few weeks ago. He seems very happy about it. I think he's been wanting to date your son ever since he realised that dating other boys was an option. This is a bit of a dream come true for him." 

Harry shakes his head and looks at the door behind which Albus and Scorpius are talking. "A Potter and a Malfoy together," he says. "Who would have thought?"

Draco gives a tiny shrug. "I'm not sure the concept is such a strange one."

For a brief moment they look at each other across the void of the corridor, then Draco strides to the door and presses his face to the glass, trying to peer through a gap in the blinds. "Well anyway. Given the circumstance, I'm not sure we should give them too much privacy."

"Our sons are quite sensible," Harry says, walking up beside him. 

"Mine is," Draco says, glancing back at him. "I'm not sure about yours." He smirks again, then beckons to Harry as he opens the door. "Come along, Potter. I think their fifteen minutes have been quite long enough." 

Harry checks his watch and nods, and together they make their way back into the room. 

 

The room is cool and dark and quiet. Walking in, it would be easy to think there's no one here. It seems deserted, and there's barely any sign of human life in the bed. But on closer inspection there's a cloak hung on the back of the door; a couple of books, a quill, and some parchment lie on the bedside table, along with the remnants of a half-eaten pumpkin pasty; and the chairs have been rearranged into positions that look to have been honed and perfected over time. Someone has already moved in here and attempted to make it home, like they're planning to stay for a long time. 

Albus steps cautiously over the threshold and pulls the door shut behind him with a quiet creak and click. He moves further into the room and crosses to one of the chairs beside the bed. 

He hasn't been in the hospital much before, apart from the one summer when James was ill, and a very brief visit after he got back from Godric's Hollow, just to make sure he really was okay, since his dad wouldn't take his word for it. Of course he's visited the Hospital Wing at school plenty of times, but that's different. Less serious.

There's a strange atmosphere here, and a strange smell. The Hospital Wing has neither of those, it just feels like a warm, comfortable, particularly quiet part of the school, which smells faintly of chocolate. The feeling of St Mungo's is different, not entirely pleasant, and it leaves Albus uncomfortable and on edge. It's even worse because Scorpius has to be here, and the idea of him staying here for any long period of time just feels weird and wrong. Albus doesn't like it. 

He perches on the very edge of the chair and looks at the bed. Scorpius is there, fast asleep. Unmoving, apart from a tiny rise and fall of blankets, and the flutter of fabric by his mouth as he breathes in and out. Scorpius is almost entirely buried in the blankets, with just a bit of blond hair sticking out of the top. If Albus shifts in his seat he can see a sliver of Scorpius's face. He looks peaceful, not like he's in pain at all, and if Albus didn't know he was ill it would be impossible to tell just by looking at him. 

Albus shuffles his seat forward a bit, careful not to scrape it across the floor and make any sound that might wake Scorpius. He leans across and rests a hand on the edge of Scorpius's mattress. He desperately wants to take Scorpius's hand, but he doesn't want to disturb him. It's difficult being this close, having so much he wants to say, wanting to hold onto Scorpius and comfort him, and to let him know that he's not going to go through this alone... but there's nothing he can do or say while Scorpius is asleep. Sleep is the most important thing for healing, and Albus isn't going to prevent Scorpius from doing that. All he can do is curl up in the seat by the bed and wait. 

It doesn't take long. He's only been sitting there a couple of minutes when Scorpius sighs. He turns his head to the side, struggles against the blankets, and gives a soft groan.

"Dad..." he mumbles, half into the pillow.

Albus gets to his feet and rushes across the inches of space between them. He puts a hand on Scorpius's shoulder to reassure him that he's not alone, and bends down to look at him. "He's not here," he says. "But I can go and find him. Do you want me to get him for you?" 

Scorpius sighs again and opens his eyes. He blinks at Albus, taking a moment to focus on him, then a smile spreads across his face. "No," he says, sounding very content. "No, I'd rather have you. You're better." He starts struggling against the blankets, trying to scramble upright, and Albus takes hold of his arm to steady him.

"Are you allowed to do that?" He asks, concerned. 

"Probably not... but that's never stopped us in the past." He wriggles upright with Albus's help, arranges the pillows how he wants them behind his back, sits Bathilda the Bat on the mattress next to him, then settles down and grins at Albus. He looks rather pale, and very tired, but his eyes are shining, which seems like a good sign. "This is a very pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting visitors." 

"I made them bring me," Albus says, pulling his chair closer to the bed so he can sit down but still be close to Scorpius. "I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay. I wanted to come last night, and stay with you, but they wouldn't let me..." 

Scorpius gestures to himself with a little flourish. "As you can see, I am perfectly fine. Well... not perfectly, but this will do for now." 

"Are you hurting?" Albus asks, reaching out and brushing his fingers against the back of Scorpius's hand. 

Scorpius turns his palm up, and curls his fingers round Albus's. "Not at the moment. Painkilling Potions are a truly marvellous invention."

"What about without them?" Albus asks, not looking at Scorpius's face, but rather focusing on their entwined fingers. "Is it bad?" 

Scorpius bows his head. "It's not... good." He takes a breath. "You know... as much as I hate it here, I think it's the best place for me at the moment."

"Scorpius," Albus murmurs, looking at him. "I-"

"If this is about yesterday," Scorpius says, giving him a hard look, "you shouldn't bother. I know you're going to try and apologise for something, but I don't want you to. If either of us has anything to apologise for, it's me. I ruined what was turning into a rather excellent snog. I'm sure you were somewhat frustrated." 

Albus shakes his head. "I wasn't. Maybe I would have been in different circumstances, but... I-I wasn't even thinking about that. I was a bit preoccupied with panicking over your unconscious body."

Scorpius sighs. "Did you panic? Albus, I was fine." 

"You didn't look fine!" Albus's voice rises, and his heart speeds up as he remembers Scorpius's still, limp, pale body, the way they'd had to levitate him up to the Hospital Wing. "I thought you were dying," he says softly. "I was terrified." 

Scorpius looks down at his hands for a moment, then back up at Albus. "I'm sorry I scared you. If I'd known it was going to happen I would have warned you, or stopped you, or something. But I never know." He picks miserably at his blankets. "I think that's the worst part about it. I never know when it's going to happen. I'll be fine one minute, and then the next..." He makes an impatient gesture with his hand and shakes his head. "I hate it." 

"But..." Albus says, glancing at him. He's nervous to voice the thought that's been plaguing him since last night, especially when it's already been shot down by his mum, but he feels like he might explode if he keeps it from Scorpius. He's the one person who can rebut it once and for all. "It happens most around me. I-I told Mum, and she said I was being stupid, that it can't be my fault. But... but maybe it is." 

"You are being stupid," Scorpius says. "Mostly." 

Albus looks at him, eyes wide.

Scorpius takes a breath. "I-I've been thinking about it – when I'm not sleeping or feeling like I'm about to die there's nothing to do in this place but think – and I noticed it only ever happens around you. At least, it happens around you most of all... It happens with Dad too, and sometimes with Rose." He glances up, and there's a spark of curiosity and determination in his eyes, the spark Albus associates with mayhem, or History of Magic homework assignments. "I'm not sure this is entirely random, Albus. But what I don't understand is why the people I care about most cause me the most pain. It seems a little unnecessarily cruel, don't you think?" 

Albus frowns at him. "So it is my fault?"

Scorpius sighs and shakes his head. "That's not what I said." He leans across to Albus, twisting in the bed, so they're very close together, and Scorpius can look him in the eye. "All of this is because I'm sick, Albus. It's not your fault that I'm sick. Not at all. But that doesn't mean the trigger for the symptoms isn't-"

"Me." 

"People I love," Scorpius corrects. "You know I tried to talk to one of the Healers about it this morning? About that theory? They think I'm insane. They've never heard of anything like it. But they don't what's wrong with me." He gazes at Albus, eyes shining with hope. "What if I'm right? There might be a cure! So, I think we should do some research." 

Albus sits back in his seat, feeling dubious. "Research?" 

Scorpius rolls his eyes. "You know when you use books in the library to look things up? To find information? Wait... do you even know what a library is?" 

Albus grabs the cushion from his chair and throws it at Scorpius's face. Scorpius laughs and catches it, hugging it to his chest. "You and Rose can look through the library. There are _tons_ of healing books in there. And maybe there'll be something in the Restricted Section. I can help, of course. You can send me things to read. It's not as if I have anything better to do, and-"

"Scorpius, wait." Albus holds a hand up to stop him, and Scorpius looks expectantly at him. "The Healers here have been trained to look after people. To find out what's wrong with them and make them better. And we're school kids. Why do you think we can do their job better than them?" 

"Because we're young and creative? And sometimes, when you've been taught one way of doing something, you don't consider the stupid options." He gives Albus a bright, optimistic smile. The sort of smile that will make Albus do anything. "We're going to consider the stupid options. Me, you, and Rose. Because quite frankly, I'm a little sick of all this pain. And I know my dad hates hospitals." His smile fades a bit. He looks down at his knees and messes with Bathilda's wings. "I don't want him to have to sit there and watch me get worse, because that's not fair. Is that a good enough reason for you?" 

Albus nods, very serious. "Yes. Yes, I think it is."

"Good." Scorpius reaches out and grabs hold of his hand. "Now will you come and sit over here? You're far too far away." 

Albus eyes the space beside him on the bed. "That definitely isn't allowed." 

Scorpius grins and tugs at him. "I'm in a rebellious mood. And if I fall asleep with you up here they definitely won't make you move. Come on." 

Albus doesn't resist a moment longer. He gets up, and Scorpius shuffles sideways to make room for him, moving Bathilda out of the way so she doesn't get squashed. He scrambles onto the bed and settles down, wrapping an arm round Scorpius's shoulders. Scorpius leans against his side, and Albus messes gently with his hair. It's very soft and warm, and it's comforting to have Scorpius beside him, conscious and comfortable and relaxed. Albus can already feel the scars from the nightmare of yesterday beginning to heal. 

"I know it ended terribly," Scorpius murmurs, sliding down so he can put his head on Albus's shoulder. "But as first dates go, I think ours was rather excellent." 

Albus smiles. Scorpius has always been able to make him smile, despite anything else that might be going on. "Not that you have anything to compare it to."

Scorpius pokes him in the ribs. "Excuse you, I went on plenty of dates with Rose." 

"Do those count?" Albus asks, smirking at him. 

Scorpius smirks back at him. "They're better than your experiences with your exactly zero girlfriends." 

Albus starts trying to tickle him, but Scorpius shrieks and squirms away, grabbing hold of Albus's hands to stop him. 

"No, no. Don't you dare. I'm sick! If you tickle me I might die, and then how would you feel?"

Albus stops.

"Exactly."

They hold onto each other's hands and look at each other for a long moment, then Albus gently squeezes Scorpius's fingers. 

"I enjoyed our date too," he says. "And I think I'd like a second one." He looks down at their hands. "I think I'd really really like a second one." 

"Okay!" Scorpius chirps, grinning.

"I just have one condition."

"Okay?"

Albus looks up at him, expression serious. "Please don't pass out on me again?"

Scorpius drops his gaze and sighs. He curls up, head leaning on Albus's shoulder. "I'll try not to. But I can't promise. I'm really sorry." 

Albus kisses his temple. "Don't be sorry, sunshine. We'll just be more careful in future."

Scorpius nods. 

A long silence stretches out and fills the room, and the two of them sit perfectly still, curled up and comfortable and content. 

Finally Scorpius glances up at Albus. "Would it be a problem if I really did fall asleep on you? I am a little bit tired now."

Albus shakes his head. "No. That wouldn't be a problem at all." 

Scorpius smiles and slides further down in the bed, so his head is resting over Albus's heart. "Good." 

They're left in perfect peace and quiet until the door opens a little while later and Harry and Draco walk in. By that point, Scorpius is fast asleep in Albus's arms.


	5. Considering the Stupid Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to research, Scorpius is the worst sort of back-seat driver...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the beautiful people who've left comments on this fic so far, you're awesome and I love you. Thank you so much. <3

Scorpius is holding court from his hospital bed, atop a throne made of blankets, books, and bits of parchment. He's been in St Mungo's for a week now, and is apparently very bored, because the second Albus and Rose arrive he pounces on them, demanding homework. Now he's a frenzy of action, ink splattering his clean sheets, parchment crumpled in his eagerness to get going, quill a blur he's writing so fast. His face is alight with sheer joy at having something to occupy him.

"Throw me that Herbology book, Rose?" He points at it one-handed, barely taking his eyes off the parchment for a second, and never once pausing in his writing. The book bounces onto the bed next to him and he snatches it up gleefully and starts flicking through it. 

Albus watches from the seat by the window, smiling at his boyfriend's exuberance. It's wonderful to see Scorpius again, and it's even more wonderful to see him so animated. The week without him has been lonely and difficult, full of struggles with lessons, early nights because there's no one to talk to, lonely meals, and far too much silence. Just being in the same room as Scorpius feels like coming home, like having part of his heart restored to him. And it's gratifying to see that Scorpius looks at least a little better than he did last Sunday. 

There seems to be more colour in his cheeks, more strength when he's moving around and sitting up. He's lost weight again, but everything else looks good, really good. Even his smile is bright and unrestrained. Albus has missed that smile so much. 

Scorpius glances up from his book for a moment and catches Albus's gaze. "Why are you staring at me?" 

Albus shrugs and can't help but grin. "Just admiring my boyfriend. And marvelling at what an enormous geek he is."

Scorpius looks across at Rose, who stops pretending to gag and gives him an innocent smile. "You'd think he'd be used to it by now really, but he's not." 

"It's because," Albus says, leaning forward and waving a book at him. "Every time I think you can't get more geeky you somehow do." 

Scorpius beams and tucks a bit of hair off his face, cheeks flushing pink with happiness. "I think that's something to be very proud of." He pushes his half-finished essay away from him. "Have you found anything yet, Albus?" 

Albus flips through the last few pages of the book he's meant to be reading and shakes his head. There's an awful lot in there about an awful lot of illnesses, but none of them seems even remotely like what Scorpius has. "Absolutely nothing," he sighs. 

"This is hopeless," Rose says, snapping her own book shut. "I'm pretty sure we've been through almost every book about Healing in the entire library, and there's nothing in any of them." 

"How well have you been through them?" Scorpius asks. "I hate to cast aspersions, but Albus has never been the most noted reader, and while you're academically excellent, Rose, you _are_ also a Gryffindor, so-"

Rose glares daggers at him. It's the sort of look Albus avoids being on the receiving end of at all costs. "So?" 

"So," Scorpius says, holding up a placatory hand. "You can be a little unfocused, and flighty, and-" 

"Flighty?" Rose asks, incredulous. "Really, Scorpius? And when have I ever been unfocused? We both know how important this is. You can trust us." She glances at Albus, and Albus nods. 

Scorpius looks between the two of them and fiddles with the collar of his dressing gown. "I _do_ trust you. I'd trust you both with my life; in fact that's literally what I'm doing right now, but... maybe you've missed something? There have to be answers. There just have to be." He tucks another bit of hair behind his ear. "So maybe you should bring me some of the books. Then I can check for myself, and you won't have to do all the work." 

"Scorpius," Rose says, voice unusually gentle. It's the same soothing voice her mum used to use when she and Albus and the others were younger, and one of them was upset or hurt. Soft and understanding. Albus can't help but realise how much she's grown up in the last few years. "I understand that you're bored, and that there's nothing to do here. I can bring you books. I can even ask the teachers for extra reading for you if you want. But... there's really no point wasting your time. I'm sorry." 

Albus swallows. "It's true," he murmurs. "I didn't read much, you know I can't read as fast as you, but I think there's a reason none of the Healers here know what's wrong with you. It's not something common."

Scorpius regards them for a moment, then he folds his arms, shoulders tight. "Fine. Then maybe next week you need to have a look for at something a little less vanilla. If it's not in the main library then maybe there are answers in the Restricted Section."

"How am I supposed to get books from the Restricted Section?" Albus asks. "I'm not exactly a model student like you two."

"Say it's for Potions," Rose says, shrugging. "You're easily the best in the year – probably in the whole school – at Potions. You could just say you're researching Healing Potions."

"Which wouldn't even be a lie," Scorpius points out.

"Do you think they'd buy that?" Albus asks dubiously. 

"Don't be silly, Albus," Rose says. "The Potions Mistress loves you. She'd give you anything you wanted, and it's not as if you've never done personal projects before. You can easily get a note." 

Scorpius flops back against his pillows, squashing several bits of ruined parchment in the process. He tugs a book out from behind him, then relaxes with a sigh. "I wish I could go home and look through the library... I bet there's all sorts in there. Mum had some fascinating Healing books, as far as I can remember, and I never managed to read through them all. If only I could ask Dad to bring me some, but it might be a bit suspicious?" 

"Well, when _will_ you be allowed home?" Albus asks, picking up another book and scanning the contents page. He glances up at Scorpius. "You look so much better already. If you go home soon you could have a look before you come back to school." 

Scorpius looks down at his knees, avoiding Albus's gaze. "I'm not sure how soon it'll be." 

"Why?" Albus asks. "What do you mean? You feel better, don't you?" 

Scorpius doesn't say anything. He adjusts his blankets, picks Bathilda the Bat up from where she's been squashed under a Transfiguration book and smooths her wings out, but remains perfectly silent.

Albus stares at him, reeling from his response. Somehow the silence is worse than any words could have been. Albus opens his mouth to try and say something, but he doesn't know where to start, so he closes it again and swallows. 

His mind is racing as fast as a Nimbus 3000. Running through what that silence means: that Scorpius must be in pain, he must feel weak, and exhausted, and sick. That all this energy and life, all the sparkle in his eyes, all his upbeat joy, it's all a front. It's been carefully crafted for Albus and Rose, so they don't worry about him. And it must be costing Scorpius a lot to do it. It must be making him more tired and more ill. 

Albus feels a bit sick all of a sudden. He stares blankly down at the book in his hands and tries to slow down his thoughts, but it's impossible. He's flooded with doubt and worry. What if this means Scorpius doesn't trust him? Can't be open with him? What if Scorpius ends up even more sick because of the energy he's used up today? Maybe they shouldn't visit anymore. Maybe that would be better. What else isn't Scorpius showing him?

Rose shuffles awkwardly in her seat, then gets to her feet. "I... think I'm going to go and look for some food." She looks between the two boys. "Do either of you want anything?"

Scorpius, who had been looking between Albus and his own hands, a cloudy expression on his face, turns to Rose, his bright smile restored to its full glory in an instant. "Three cauldron cakes please." 

Rose pulls a face. "Three? Why three?" 

"One for now, one for later, and one to feed to Albus." Scorpius glances at him. "He's looking far too miserable." 

Albus runs a hand through his hair and tries not to look at Scorpius's smile. It had looked so beautiful just a couple of minutes ago, but now all Albus can think about is the pain it must be hiding. "I'm not miserable," he says softly. "I'm just-"

"Three please." Scorpius nods, as if Albus's reaction proves his point.

"I'll be back in a minute." Rose gestures to the two of them. "You two... please behave." She looks at them a moment longer, gaze lingering particularly on Albus. Then she marches out of the door and leaves them alone.

For a minute they sit in silence. Albus flicks the pages of the book over his fingertips, and Scorpius adjusts the pile of blankets around him, wrapping himself up more tightly. Finally he looks up and leans forward a little.

"Albus-"

Albus puts the book aside and gives Scorpius his undivided attention. His heart is racing, and he can feel tension twisting inside him. He knows he should handle this conversation calmly, but he's not sure he can. Not when it matters this much.

"How bad is it?" He asks, voice tight. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "It's not-"

"I'm supposed to be your boyfriend," Albus says, voice rising with all the emotions he can't contain. Frustration, desperation, and so much fear. "I'm supposed to be your _best friend_. If you won't tell me how bad it is, at least tell me why you won't."

Scorpius wipes his nose on the back of his hand. "I didn't want you to worry." 

"I already am worrying," Albus says. "And this is making it worse." He takes a breath. "Scorpius... please. I-I want to... I want to be here for you. I want to help. Let me help." 

Scorpius picks up a ball of scrap parchment and tosses it into the bin on the other side of the room, then he flops back into the bed and looks up at Albus. "Fine. It's bad." 

Albus hesitates, then he gets up from his seat and moves to the one beside the bed. He perches on the edge, uncertain if he's allowed to be this close, but Scorpius doesn't protest, he just stares down at the blankets. 

"You- you look better this week," Albus says, looking at him. 

Scorpius kicks one of his feet under the duvet. "Only because they're good at managing pain here." He looks in Albus's direction, not at him, but towards him. "For something like this, when you come to hospital they don't make it better, they just make it hurt less. That's what they did for my mum, and it's all they can do for me at the moment." 

"So they definitely think you're going to-"

Scorpius gives a frustrated growl and rakes his fingers through his hair. "Why is this always about whether I'm dying or not? Why is that all you care about? I'd quite like some answers too, you know. I'd quite like to survive this. But I don't know what's going to happen. I don't have any answers. And sometimes it'd be nice to be able to talk to my boyfriend about something other than my mortality. Sometimes I'd quite like a nice distraction. But I never get that with you." 

"Scorpius-" Albus tries to interject, feeling stunned, wanting to apologise. Scorpius doesn't give him chance. 

"You try sitting here in this bed," he says, voice softening as he drums his fingers on one of the books next to him and stares down at the grey fleece blanket covering his knees. "Not sure what's going to happen. Not sure whether you're going to be able to sleep, or how much pain you're going to be in when you wake up, or if chatting to your dad for half an hour will be the thing that finally finishes you off." 

His voice is getting louder again, a painful crescendo of building emotion, of all the things he must have been wanting to say all week, finally bursting out of him. "I'm stuck here, Albus. I'm missing school, I'm missing our N.E.W.T year. Even if I survive this whole thing I have no idea how I'm going to catch up enough to do well in my exams. Everything I've ever wanted might be gone. Just like that." He clicks his fingers. "Because of this stupid illness." 

He takes several deep breaths, apparently trying to steady himself. He looks at Albus, and when he speaks his voice is quieter again. "I'm as in the dark about all of this as you are, Albus. If I had answers I'd give them to you, but I don't. We both know nothing. The only difference between us is that you can walk away whenever you want. And you probably should. I don't want to inflict unnecessary heartache on you." 

Albus looks down at his hands and shakes his head. "You're wrong," he murmurs. 

"What does that mean?" Scorpius glances at him, and Albus meets his eyes. 

"I can't walk away. I mean... I could. But I won't. Because that would mean leaving you. I already left you once before, and it was horrific, my idea of hell. There's nothing worse for me than the idea of a world where we aren't together, as friends, or boyfriends, or whatever we happen to be. And I know that if I walked away it would hurt me far more than staying, no matter how sick you are. And-and I know I might lose you anyway, but I don't care, because this is about _you_." 

He twists his fingers together and meets Scorpius's eyes. "I don't think about you nearly as much as I should. I know I'm selfish all the time, and I think this is a good opportunity to try and be better. I'm sorry I don't distract you enough. I didn't realise that you wanted-" He shakes his head. "That's my problem, isn't it? That I don't realise what you need. That I fixate too much. So I'm just going to have to do better. I'm going to have to be a better boyfriend. Because this is about you. It should be about you, and what you want, and what will help you. Because you're right. I'm not the one in the bed, you are. And if I love you – which I do, a lot – then I need to remember that. So-so I'm staying. Staying and helping you to forget everything for a bit. Like I should have been doing the whole time." 

He looks up at Scorpius and lifts his chin, jaw set. Defiant. Scorpius looks back at him for a long moment, eyes shining just a little too brightly in the sunlight that streams through the window. Finally he nods. "Okay. But if you ever do want to leave, I wouldn't blame you." 

"I won't," Albus says, without hesitation. 

"Sometimes," Scorpius says, with a very small smile, "you're too stubborn for your own good." 

Albus grins. "I know." He settles more comfortably on the chair, sliding back into it, finally feeling like he might be welcome to stay. "So..." he says, trying to keep his tone as light as he can, even though what he's about to say is so serious. "You don't have to tell me this – we can talk about something else if you want – but... what would happen if you did go home?" 

Scorpius gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Probably collapse again and have to come straight back here."

Albus watches him, full of concern. "It's really that bad?" 

Scorpius nods and glances up, really talking to him for the first time. "They give me Painkilling Potions three times a day, and if I don't have them it feels like I'm constantly under the Cruciatus Curse. Which isn't really that pleasant. The only reason I'm upright and talking to you now is a delightful combination of potions and sugar. I'm not sure if they're supposed to be mixed, but here we are." He grins and plucks a packet of Jelly Slugs from his bedside table. He offers it to Albus, and Albus takes one, knowing that Scorpius doesn't want to talk about the serious stuff anymore, and spotting this as a perfect change of subject.

"It's good to know you're eating healthily while you're trying to get better," he teases. 

Scorpius pulls a face. "What else am I supposed to eat? Fish? No thank you. But honestly, Albus, I've never eaten so many sweets in my life. Aunt Daphne sent me this whole huge box. I'm almost sick of them." 

Albus grins. "Almost?" 

"They're sweets," Scorpius says, very serious, as if that explains everything. "You can't go off sweets. And they are literally the only fuel to my fire right now. Without these Jelly Slugs I would be sleeping like a baby." 

Albus shakes his head and tries not to smile, knowing that it'll only encourage him. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe your body is trying to tell you that rest would be a good idea?" 

"Oh undoubtedly, but sleep is for the weak, and I have so much homework to do." He tosses a Jelly Slug into the air, catches it in his mouth, and picks up his Herbology book.

"You," Albus says, leaning forward and pointing a finger at him, "are an enormous geek." 

Scorpius bows with a little flourish. "It's in my essential nature. It's part of my soul!" He hugs the book to his chest, then buries himself back in his work again, and Albus, with a fond shake of the head, picks up a Defence Against the Dark Arts book and does the same. 

 

The words of the Potions book blur. Albus's eyes start to drift closed again, but he blinks several times and forces them open. The solid wood arm of the chair digs uncomfortably into his side where he's slumping over. He wriggles around and rubs his eyes. He tries to read a few more words, tries to hold their meaning in his exhausted brain, but he's already drifting off again.

A brief moment – or maybe hours – later, a gentle hand settles on his shoulder.

"You're still here, then?" 

Albus opens his eyes and finds himself looking up at Draco Malfoy. He's as tall and imposing as always, impressive in his black robes, but there's a softness in his expression, and Albus doesn't feel like he's being told off or thrown out.

He rubs his eyes and looks around the room. Scorpius is still sleeping soundly in the bed, thank goodness. "What time is it?" He asks, voice hoarse. 

"Late," Draco says, moving away to adjust Scorpius's blankets. "Do you not have school in the morning?" 

Albus looks down at the book and parchment in his lap. "I wanted to finish my Potions homework before I left. It's due, and I haven't had much time, and-" he stares blankly down at the book. What was he even reading about? Poison antidotes or something? 

"Perhaps you should go back to school and sleep," Draco says, turning back to him. "Your homework will be waiting for you in the morning, and I'm sure you'll do a better job after you've had a rest." 

"But..." Albus looks forlornly at Scorpius's shape, curled up under the blankets. It had taken him hours to fall asleep, until the Healers had finally given him a Painkilling Potion and a Sleeping Draught. Albus had promised to stay with him while he slept.

Draco follows his gaze. "If I have any say in the matter, he'll be here when you return as well." 

Albus looks up at him and blinks tiredly. Even the soft golden glow of the lamplight feels like too much right now. 

Draco draws up a chair and sits beside him, turning round to face him. "One of the things I learned from my time spent with Astoria... Sacrificing your own life and health for a situation you have no control over is of very little benefit to anyone." His gaze flickers to Scorpius. "It's a lesson I still seem to be learning, but perhaps it's something you could consider too." He looks back at Albus. "Can we agree that Scorpius wouldn't want you missing school for him?" 

Albus doesn't even need to think about that. He nods. 

Draco nods too. "Good." He adjusts a button on one of his cuffs, and when he speaks again his tone is gentle. Albus has only ever heard him speak to Scorpius like that before, and it makes him feel warm and safe. "If it would help I'm sure I can talk to Minerva- Professor McGonagall about an exemption for you, for the Potions work. I think she'd understand." 

Albus shakes his head. "You don't have to. I-I want to do it. I _need_ to do it. Just..." He looks at Scorpius again, then bows his head. "He's been more important." 

Draco smooths a crease from his robes, then gestures in Scorpius's direction. "He told me, about your relationship."

Albus stares at him, a sudden jolt of fear rushing through him. He'd spent so long considering how his own parents might react, that he'd never stopped to consider how Draco might feel about it. 

"I believe you've made him very happy," Draco says. "I think that having you here is giving him something to hold on to, beyond his own considerable tenacity."

Albus swallows. "So... you're not upset then? That he's with me? You know... a Potter? A-a boy?" 

Draco smiles. "I try not to concern myself with family names these days. That was my father's business, it isn't mine. As for your gender, I'm not sure it affects my opinion much, and I must admit it wasn't entirely a surprise." 

"It was a surprise to me," Albus mutters. 

Draco's smile twists into an amused smirk. "I can imagine." He looks at Albus for a moment, and his smile fades back to something more serious. "I really am glad that Scorpius has someone like you around. I think he'll be well looked after." 

Albus twists his hands together. "I'm going to try." 

"I know." Draco gets to his feet. "Now, I don't want to keep you any longer. Do you need someone to take you back to school? I can send a Patronus to your father..." 

Albus gets up too, and starts gathering his things. "No. I said I'd go by Floo." 

"Of course. I have some powder you can use." Draco picks up a couple of books from the bed and hands them to Albus. "Make sure you go through Minerva's office. You should let her know you've back safely." 

"Okay."

"I can walk you down to the fireplaces if you like." 

Albus shakes his head. "I can manage." He sorts through a pile of books. It's difficult to separate his belongings from Scorpius's mess, which is spreading throughout the room just like it spreads through the dormitory at school. "I don't want to keep you from him." 

Draco glances down at the sleeping boy. "I'm sure he won't be waking up any time soon. I'd hope, anyway." 

Albus swings his bag over his shoulder. "When he does wake up... please give him a hug from me? I think he needs them at the moment. And tell him I'm sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye." 

Draco smiles and nods. "I shall." 

"Okay." Albus gives one last, exhausted glance around the room but he can't see anything else that might be his. Anyway, he'll be back soon. He can just pick it up then. 

As he crosses to the door he pauses. This might be the first conversation he's ever had alone with Draco. It's certainly the first since he became Scorpius's boyfriend. It feels like he should have more to say, like he should explain himself, justify himself. In fact, thinking about it, there's an awful lot he wants to say, but he has no idea where to start. He ends up turning back and just blurting out the first thing that comes into his head.

"Draco- I mean, sir. I-I love Scorpius. He's a good person, a brave person. And I know I'm lucky to have him. I want to be good for him, better than I have been in the past. And I don't care how sick he is, or how sick he gets. I'm not going to give up on him. I want to help take care of him, however I can – if I can – if that's okay with you."

Silence stretches through the room as Draco studies Albus carefully. Finally he says, "You can call me Draco." He folds his arms and takes a step toward Albus. "You know, I still remember the day Scorpius wrote to Astoria telling her he'd met Harry Potter's son on the train. He was overjoyed. She was happy for him; I was concerned. Over the years I've seen my son cry over you, I've seen him lost in time with you, I've seen him go to hell and back for you. And I've become increasingly convinced that you are, on the whole, a positive influence in his life." He frowns, apparently considering his next words. "I think we would agree that Scorpius is a rather special person. Something of a beacon of light in this world-"

"He told me that's how you described Astoria in the other world. Light in the darkness."

A very small smile flickers across Draco's lips, and he nods. "He does shine the way she used to, yes. And I think that's something to be preserved at all costs. At the moment Scorpius needs to be surrounded by the people who love him most. I think you are one of those people, and I'm grateful that you want to help take care of him. Perhaps, working together, we can make things a little easier for him."

"I hope so. I really do."

Draco nods. "Very well. I suppose I shall see you next weekend?"

Albus draws himself up to his full height. "Friday night," he says, with all the certainty he can muster. "I'll be here."

"I'm sure Scorpius will be looking forward to it." Draco walks across to the door and holds it open while Albus leaves. "Have a pleasant week. And please try and rest. You shouldn't exhaust yourself." 

"Goodnight Draco." And then, reluctantly, exhaustedly, Albus walks away down the quiet hospital corridor, leaving the two Malfoys alone in their small, dark room.

 

Days turn into weeks, which turns into a month. October ticks over into November, and they celebrate Scorpius's eighteenth birthday at the hospital, with one of the most extravagant cakes Albus has ever seen in his life. 

Albus spends half his life at Hogwarts, and the other half at St Mungo's. He squeezes homework into the gaps between classes, and the small stretches of time when Scorpius is asleep. Every night he goes to the library, where he researches magical diseases by candlelight until well into the night. He's exhausted all of the time, but he doesn't care. Whatever he's going through, Scorpius is suffering far worse. 

Scorpius is livid to be missing out on school, especially the fact that he can't do any practical spellwork at all. The one time he tried, his charm produced such a powerful jet of fine red wine that it smashed the window, and the Healers told him he shouldn't be trying to do magic anyway. 

Without much to keep him occupied, he's getting more bored and frustrated by the day, and he doesn't seem to be getting much better. Twice now he's collapsed during attempts to reduce his pain medication. Every day seems to be hurting him a little bit more, and Albus can see the hope draining out of him bit by bit.

In response, Albus dedicates more and more time to his research, and he persuades Rose to do the same. She agrees, but even with both of them spending all their free time reading, and Albus sleeping only a couple of hours a night, they still don't seem to be getting anywhere. They haven't even had any luck with the Restricted Section yet. 

Mid-November sees the castle grounds covered in silver frost most mornings, and drenched in icy cold torrential rain the rest of the time. On a particularly chilly Thursday night, Albus sits alone in the Restricted Section of the library, James's Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly round him, as much for warmth as anything else. He's lit his wand, and is using it to scan through the tiny, slanted text of _Dark Diseases and Their Cures: A Guide for Potion Makers and Healers_. 

It's 1am, and the fires went out hours ago, so it's utterly freezing. He can barely feel his fingers anymore, and has to keep stopping to blow on them, breath misting in the frigid air. He'd make a fire, but he's tried twice already, and he knows he's simply too tired to cast the spell. Besides, it seems wrong to create a fire in a library. Scorpius definitely wouldn't approve. 

He scans through page after page, leaning forward so his nose is almost pressed to the paper, pinching himself to stay awake. Sleep would be kinder to his body, but he has to keep going. Even after so long searching, every fresh bit of text; every new recipe offers a new spark of hope. The answer to all Scorpius's problems could be anywhere.

He flicks past an awful disease that makes the sufferer melt from the feet upwards, over the course of a single excruciating week. Apparently it's horribly painful and almost completely incurable. On the page after that is a disease that's caused by the bite of a very rare bat, only found in a remote part of Brazil. Once bitten, the patient feels as though they're constantly being bitten by thousands of bats. One man actually threw himself into a fire in an attempt to escape the horrible sensation. Almost every sufferer seems to have been driven to suicide; Albus shudders at the thought. Whatever Scorpius has is awful, but thankfully it's not as bad as that. 

He gathers the cloak more tightly round himself, rubs his hands together, then slaps himself on the cheek to try and wake himself up. If it were warm he'd definitely be asleep by now. The slap stings enough to make him feel a bit more awake. He rubs his eyes, then turns to the next page and reads:

**_Moramortia_ **

_Characterised by intense pain during affectionate and loving encounters, this disease is among the most cruel I have encountered during my studies. The sufferer showing any sign of love, particularly for those closest to them, will slowly be consumed as the disease feeds off and attempts to eradicate this most important emotion from within them. Alongside the intense and prolonged pain, sufferers may experience occasional collapses, and will grow continuously weaker as the disease progresses. The final stage of the disease is a gradual spreading of poison through the sufferer's veins, causing numbness and weakness, and gradually shutting down the body._

_If the patient continues to demonstrate their love despite the pain, the illness will eventually be fatal. An alternative path is to surrender to the pain, and lead a miserable life devoid of emotional connection with other people, although in my experience, those who are most vulnerable to this disease will very rarely choose this option._

_The disease breeds in the darkest times, places, and situations in the world, and is often found in war zones. Several outbreaks were seen in Britain during the First and Second Wizarding Wars, with the last cases being reported in 1998. It is since believed to have been eradicated_

_The only effective cure for this disease is a complex potion. Although it is not difficult to brew, the complexity lies in the process of collecting the ingredients, some of which are not easy to acquire due to their specificity. In addition, the participation of the sufferer in the quest to gather the ingredients is essential, as some of the objects must be personal to them. As their disease progresses they may become less able to participate, and the potion may be impossible to complete. However, should the potion be successfully brewed, it provides a full and immediate cure._

Albus sits back in his seat, reeling. Wasn't this what Scorpius had thought was happening? He'd said he felt most pain around Albus, Draco, and sometimes Rose. The people he loves most. And he'd collapsed when he and Albus had been kissing, while he'd been telling Albus how much he loved him. It all makes far too much sense. 

But how would Scorpius have caught it? If died out after the war... And that was were well over twenty years ago now. It's impossible, and-

No it's not impossible. Because Scorpius has been to hell and back, and where would a disease that eats away all the love from you rather spawn than in a world where Voldemort is in power? 

Albus stares at the page, heart pounding. Can this possibly be true? Has sleep deprivation finally got the better of him? This almost seems too good a diagnosis to be true. And it has a cure. A difficult one, but a cure none the less.

With a shaky hand he leans in close so he can read about the potion that heals the disease.

_The ingredients for this potion, the only known cure for Moramortia, are as follows:_

_One vial of Phoenix Tears_

_Two pieces of wood from a willow tree_

_Seven Basilisk Teeth, crushed_

_The remnants of a sacrifice_

_A single memory of love_

_A single bottle of Love Potion_

_All these ingredients must be added to the base liquid, a basic Healing Potion. Once the ingredients have been added, the potion must be stirred seven times clockwise and seven times counter-clockwise, then allowed to simmer for five minutes._

_For the potion to take effect, the one afflicted with the disease must drink it in the presence of the person who loves them most._

Albus frowns at the ingredients. He's never encountered such a cryptic list before. The remnants of a sacrifice? What does that even mean? And how are they supposed to find Phoenix Tears? 

He runs a hand through his hair. This has to be the solution, it has to be, they've looked literally everywhere else and this all makes so much sense. It doesn't look as though it's going to be easy but when has that ever stopped them before? And if there were ever a time to do something difficult and dangerous and reckless, this is it. When it might be the only way of saving Scorpius's life. No, when it _is_ the only way of saving Scorpius's life. 

According to the book, without this potion, Scorpius will die. There is no other choice. Thank Dumbledore that the one thing Albus is really good at is Potions. He can do this, for sure. He can make this potion, and he can save Scorpius's life. He _can_ do this. Or rather, they can do it together. 

Except, what if they can't? There's a reason Scorpius is in hospital. He's sick, and getting worse. He hasn't been able to go home yet. And Albus needs him to do what? To run around all over the place trying to find Phoenix Tears and Basilisk Fangs and Merlin knows what else. What if they try it and this is the thing that kills Scorpius? What if instead of being a cure, the process finishes him off? 

Albus rubs his eyes and stares down at the book. He can't think straight right now. He needs to sleep, and he needs to talk to Scorpius and Rose. If only he could go up to the Gryffindor dormitories right now, or to St Mungo's, but he can't. He's stuck here on his own, with this book and all these possibilities. But tomorrow, first thing, he's going to talk to Rose and Owl Scorpius, because this is it. This is what they've spent months looking for. And now they've found it, it's time to decide what to do.

Flooded with a sense of determination, which mingles with the pure exhaustion already coursing through him, he taps his wand against the page, making a couple of copies, then he snaps the book shut, makes sure the Cloak is covering him properly, and leaves the library for Slytherin House, and what he hopes will be the first decent night of sleep he's had in weeks. 


	6. Running Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how ready Albus and Scorpius might be, facing the moment of actually running away was always going to be hard...

"This is completely absurd," Rose says, sitting cross-legged on the bed by Scorpius's feet, her copy of the Moramortia recipe fluttering as she waves her hands. 

"It's a little bit wild," Scorpius agrees, staring down at his own copy of the recipe that's lying in his lap. "Phoenix Tears, Albus? There hasn't been a Phoenix sighting in this country since the end of the nineties. Are you planning for us to Apparate to Egypt or something?" 

"I don't think it's _completely_ absurd," Albus says, pacing backwards and forwards across the room. "I know there are lots of problems, and I haven't thought through all the details yet, but I think it's a good start. This is what we were looking for, wasn't it?" He looks at Scorpius. "You asked us to look for the stupid options. This is one of those. I think it's a- a good stupid option." 

"If you want to think about details, Albus, maybe we should start with the fact that I can't actually leave this hospital." He flails his hands in the direction of the door, like he's demonstrating just how much of a barrier it is. "Aside from the fact that me leaving would amount to running away, and I don't particularly want to inflict that on my dad again, can we talk about the fact that I physically can't leave? I'll collapse. And I don't think my lifeless body will be very useful for finding potion ingredients."

Albus drags his hands through his hair and gives an exasperated sigh. "So, we'll steal the Painkilling Potions. And some Sleeping Draughts. Enough for a couple of weeks. And if we need more I'll just make them."

"You'll just-" Scorpius shakes his head and flops back against his pillows, folding his arms. "Rose, will you talk some sense into your cousin? I'm too tired for this." 

She looks between Albus and Scorpius, and sighs. "I don't know. You're right, Albus, this was what we were looking for... but we're kids-"

"We're all of age," Albus points out.

"And," Rose continues, "there are people here who know what they're doing. Who understand Healing. They might be able to help if we talk to them." 

Scorpius picks irritably at his blankets. "Or they might just debate it for months while I get worse. They wouldn't listen when I've tried to talk to them before. Why would this time be any different?" 

Albus flops down into the chair by the window and looks at his two friends. "This is a cure. It says so." He reads it off the parchment. "'A complete and immediate cure.' If we wait... it might be too late to do anything." He gazes at Scorpius, who glances up at him and meets his eyes. "If we do this... I know it might be a disaster, and I don't know if- if that's a good risk to take or not. I'm not sure. But you might be able to go back to school. You can take your N.E.W.T.s, and be Head Boy properly, and win the Quidditch Cup again, and-and become a Healer, and do all the things you've always wanted to do. Whether we like it or not, don't we have to at least consider going on this crazy adventure?" 

Scorpius looks down at his hands and smiles. "I always wanted a mate to get up to mayhem with..." He smooths his hand over the blankets. "And I must admit, the idea of being better is quite an enticing one. But Albus..." he looks up. "I don't know if we can do this on our own. Don't you think we should ask for some parental supervision? Or at least permission." 

Albus snorts. "Like that'll help. Your dad won't let you go. And I think my dad already thinks I'm too obsessed with you." 

Scorpius grins. "There are worse things to be obsessed with." 

"I know," Albus says, not returning his smile, "but he doesn't understand that. And I know it's because he cares about me, they all care about both of us... but sometimes the way parents care about you isn't enough. It's not helpful." 

Scorpius nods. "I know..." He fiddles with the collar of his pyjama top, then glances up at Albus. "I wonder if Dad might let me go... I know he looked for a way to save Mum for years before she told him to stop. I think he always secretly hoped they'd come up with something, and if he knew there were a way to make me better..." 

"But he doesn't want to see you in pain. You said it yourself you're better off here..." Albus runs his hands over his face. He hates this whole stupid balancing act, the idea of making Scorpius worse... He hates even thinking about making a decision that might end up with Scorpius gone forever. 

"Only in the short term," Scorpius says. "I'm going to get worse whatever happens. If this is right..." he gestures to the parchment on his lap. "I'm eventually going to die. And all because I can't stop loving people."  

"And we can do something about that," Rose interjects, glancing at the two of them. "We can fix it. Or at least, in theory we can."

Scorpius sits very still for a long moment, thinking hard, then he looks down at the recipe. "Let me have another look at..." He struggles to cross his legs, holding the parchment in his lap and bowing his head over it. 

His hair has grown while he's been here, and it falls over his face, long pale strands gently curling down his forehead in a curtain. It isn't nearly as long as his dad's, but it's easy to imagine how well that look would suit him, especially now he's beginning to grow into his sharp jaw and high Malfoy cheekbones. Albus can't imagine a look that wouldn't suit him these days. 

"Phoenix Tears," he mutters, closely scanning the page. "Willow wood – that shouldn't be too difficult. Crushed Basilisk Teeth." He glances up at the others. "We know where to go to get those. That shouldn't be as easy as it is. Can either of you speak Parseltongue?" He looks back down, frowning. "Remnants of a sacrifice – weird. A memory of love – that's easy, I just have to think about my mum. A single bottle of Love Potion." He glances at Albus. "Is there a reason why Love Potions are always essential to everything we have to do?" He runs his finger over the recipe, checking he hasn't missed anything. "Oh! And I have to drink it in the presence of the person who loves me most... that's tricky. How do I even know who that is?" 

"Easy," Rose says, crawling up the bed to read over his shoulder. "Obviously that's Albus." 

Albus's cheeks heat and he tries to ignore the comment, looking directly at Scorpius instead. "I think we can do this. If you want to. We'd have to plan it properly, but if we're sensible and we look after you... I can make the potion, and we can make you better."

Scorpius meets his eyes for a moment, then his gaze flickers across to Rose. "What about you? Are you coming too?" 

Rose gives a little shake of her head and looks down at her knees. "I'll help. I want to help. Maybe I can plan everything with Albus, and I'll come and help with the Basilisk Fangs! I've always wanted to visit the Chamber. But... I don't think I can run away with you. Mum has enough on her plate at the moment without me disappearing. And one of us should stay behind, to take notes in class, and head the adults off. I can be backup support in case anything happens! Besides..." she glances between the two of them. "This seems like something the two of you should do together. It is about love after all." She flashes Scorpius a small smile. 

"Friendship is love too," Scorpius says, looking at her. "And you're a very good friend, Rose." 

Her smile widens just a bit and she leans against Scorpius's side, wrapping an arm round his shoulders. "I know. But you two need me to be the sensible one." 

Scorpius puts his head on her shoulder and sighs. "You can coordinate our stupidity from afar." 

She grins and ruffles his hair. "I can. And will you please try not to disappear me this time? I'd really appreciate that." 

Scorpius turns his head so he can look at her. "I'm not sure we can make any promises." 

Rose elbows him, very gently, in the ribs.

Albus gets to his feet, a sense of nervous anticipation building inside him. "So we're really going to do this?" 

Scorpius rubs his side and nods. "I suppose so. I don't think I have much choice." He sits up, extricating himself from Rose's grip, and looking between her and Albus. "But we're planning this properly. None of the flying by the seat of our pants, spontaneous nonsense we usually get up to." He holds up a hand and ticks things off on his fingers. "We need a proper plan, we need supplies, and we need to at least leave a note so our parents don't go completely insane like they did last time. I..." he drops his hand onto the bed and bows his head, voice lowering to a murmur. "I sort of get the feeling we're going to need to do this quickly. I'm not sure being alone with you, Albus- Don't get me wrong, there's no one I'd rather run away with. But under the circumstances... I'm not sure it'll be entirely beneficial to my health."

Albus nods, very serious. "We'll be sensible. No mistakes. I promise. This isn't something I really want to get wrong, so we'll make it work." 

Scorpius glances up at him, his expression reflecting the hint of apprehension Albus feels in his own heart. "I really really hope so."

 

Rose comes flying into the dungeons at top speed, robes flying, hair askew, bag bouncing against her back. She gives the Potions Professor a wave of apology and collapses onto the stool next to Albus's, breathing hard.

"You're late," Albus mutters. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

Rose tuts and starts pulling things from her bag. "We're doing Healing Potions, Albus. Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to miss this class? It could be essential to our mission! Have I missed anything?" 

Albus shakes his head and slides the two books he already has open sideways across the desk so she can see them. "We haven't started yet. But we have to read through the theory and then make our own adapted version of one of the Healing Potions in Chapter Five whichever one we like."

"Okay." She peers over at the books. "I was talking to Flitwick about some extra Charms work. I'd like to have as much under my belt as possible before Christmas. I think it's important to have everything thoroughly engrained before the exams, and if I've been working on more difficult things, my exam preparations will feel a lot less fraught. We all need as good a grasp of the subject matter as possible." 

Albus shakes his head and shoots her a despairing look. "I didn't think anyone could ever be geekier than Scorpius, but you might yet convince me." 

"I'm not a geek," Rose says loftily. "I just have high expectations of myself." 

Albus pulls a piece of parchment towards himself and starts copying down the notes the Potions Professor has just conjured onto the board. "Sometimes Scorpius and I wonder how you managed to avoid being put in Slytherin."

Rose pulls a face. "Why would I want to be in Slytherin?"

"Because it's the best house?" 

She rolls her eyes and also starts copying things down. "We're all entitled to our own opinions, even if those opinions are wrong." 

Albus grins and finishes up his notes. When he's done he reads them through, then frowns. "If one of the side effects of these Potions is uncontrollable giggling, do you think a sprig of rosemary would help?"

"And you call me a geek," Rose says, finishing her sentence with a flourish and looking up at him. "What sort of Healing Potion are you going to make? One of these fancy ones?" She flicks through a couple of pages in the textbook. "They'd be more interesting to adapt."

Albus shakes his head. "I'm using this basic one. I'd like to work out how to perfect it before I have to make it for Scorpius. If I do this in class I can concentrate on the other potions during my spare time. And this is so important... I don't want to get it wrong when the time comes." He sighs and leans his hands on the desk, staring down at his already heavily annotated recipe. "This has to be right." 

Rose puts a gentle hand on his back. "If anyone can do this, it's our master potioneer." 

Albus snorts and doesn't look up. For a moment longer he surveys the recipe, then he nods. "I think I will try it with the rosemary."

Rose hugs him briefly, then releases him and bounces across to light the fire under her cauldron. They both set to work, side by side, in perfect silence. 

Albus almost forgets that Rose is there as he works. He almost forgets he's in a classroom at all. He's so wrapped up in his scrawled notes, and in striking the perfect balance between the different ingredients, that the class turns into a blur of smell and colour and finest touch. 

There's a weight of pressure too. The knowledge that this is far more important than just a normal lesson. He doubts he'll get a good mark for this, it's too simple, but he doesn't care. His mum has always told him that marks in school don't matter as much as the things he learns in class, and the ways he'll be able to apply them in the future, and for the first time, he really understands what she means. 

He's so absorbed in trying to work out the precise number of counter-clockwise stirs he needs to get the consistency right, that when Rose leans across to talk to him he jumps knocks his books off the table with his elbow. 

"So," she says, as he dives onto the floor to retrieve the books. "Scorpius told me he managed to get enough extra Painkilling Potions for three days."

Albus runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Yeah?" It took eight stirs for the potion to change to the soft peach colour he needs it to be. Eight stirs. He scribbles it down and glances up at Rose. "That's good. And I've managed to make... I should have enough for a whole week."

"And I think Scorpius took some extra Sleeping Draughts too. Which means you're almost ready to go." 

Albus stares down at the pale peach potion in front of him. He can't deny that she's right, but he doesn't want to admit it. He runs through all their plans in his head, trying to spot something they've missed, but there's nothing. They've done this properly. And all that's left is to put the plans into action. 

"You're right," he murmurs. "There's nothing left to do..." 

"And you're still starting here, right? In the castle?" She picks up a spoonful of Fairy Eggs and tosses them haphazardly into her cauldron. If Albus weren't so distracted he would have winced at the lack of precision. "While we're getting the Basilisk Fangs we can think about our strategy for the rest of the things on the list. Personally it's the Phoenix Tears I'm most worried about, because-"

"I have an idea about that," Albus says, picking up a couple of sprigs of fresh mint and scattering them over the surface of the potion. 

"Do you?" She asks, looking at him in surprise. 

"I'm working on it," he says, giving a little shrug and tearing up some Knotgrass. 

"I'm intrigued," Rose says, leaning against the table to watch him. 

"It might be entirely stupid. My ideas usually are." He scatters the torn-up grass into the potion and starts stirring, trying to keep count of how many he's done. 

"Albus," she scolds. "That's not true." 

"It is," Albus replies. "And we should be making potions, not arguing. I need to concentrate."

Rose shakes her head but doesn't say anything. She doesn't go back to her work either, just keeps leaning against the table and watching him. He does his best to ignore her while he works, but once he's scribbled down the number of counter-clockwise stirs he needs now, there's nothing to do but let the potion simmer, so he turns his attention back to her. 

"You're staring at me." 

"I'm admiring your work." She smiles. "You're very good at that." 

Albus points to the smoking cauldron over her shoulder. "Maybe you should stop watching me and concentrate on your own work. It's about to congeal." 

"Oh," she says. "Whoops." She spins round and spends a minute or two rectifying her work, then she glances back at Albus. "You're going to need to be confident about this," she says. "About what you're doing. I don't think there's any room for indecision here. Like Scorpius said the other day, you're going to have to be fast, and face up to the fact that he's probably going to get worse before he gets better." 

"I don't want him to get worse," Albus mutters. He looks away, at the grimy wall of the dungeon, just visible through the gloom and smoke. "But... I know."

"And if you do have to come back..." Rose says, carefully, like she's afraid to say the words. "If you don't manage to get everything... you won't have failed. It won't be your fault." 

Albus swallows. He tries to speak, but in the end he settles on simply nodding, because he doesn't know what to say. 

He wants to argue that it would be his fault. It would be because he didn't look after Scorpius properly, or because they didn't plan well enough. He wants to argue that the whole thing, the damage this will do to Scorpius, won't be justifiable if they don't succeed. There are so many things he wants to say. But they're better off kept inside where Rose can't argue with them. 

"Anyway," Rose says brightly. "It'll all be fine!" She turns away as she says it, so Albus can't tell if she's trying to convince him, or herself. 

For the rest of the lesson they work mostly in silence, although Rose throws out the occasional thought. 

"We have to remember to pack the Dittany!" 

"Do you think you'll need any maps?" 

"You should practice making fires tonight, just in case."

"Remind me how many bottles of Painkilling Potion you've made?"

At the end of the class they cork up their bottles of Healing Potion and take them to the front. Albus is convinced he could have done more with his. He's not sure the shade of turquoise is quite as perfect as it could have been, and it's such a simple potion that it has to be spot on. With some trepidation he places it on the Professor's desk and turns away, ready to go back to his seat and analyse his notes, to work out what went wrong. 

He gets two steps before she calls after him. 

"Potter, is this yours?" 

He glances back and sees her holding his flask. "Yes, Professor." 

She nods as she examines the liquid inside. "This is beautiful work. Simple, but I'm not sure I've seen many better ones. I'm impressed." 

Albus feels pride blossom in his chest, and he can't keep himself from smiling. "Thank you," he says. 

He returns to his desk, a new swell of confidence spreading through him. Maybe his potion really wasn't that bad. Maybe it'll work when he needs it. And maybe, just maybe, this whole adventure will turn out okay. He is the best potion maker in the year after all, and Scorpius is the best at everything else. If anyone can do this, it's them. 

He shoves everything into his bag, then swings it onto his shoulder and looks at Rose, who's wiping the desk down with a rag. "I'm ready," he says. "Let's do this." 

 

Albus is a bundle of nerves when he walks into Scorpius's room on Friday night. He's already wearing the warm, comfortable Muggle clothes he's going to take on the trip, and he's carrying his normal bag of stuff for the weekend. His real bag of stuff, the one Rose has enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, and that they've packed full of Painkilling Potions, sleeping bags, and everything else they might possibly need, is lying on his bed at school, ready for him to grab whenever he has a second. 

This, Albus thinks, as he hovers in the doorway, is the most awful part. Everything is ready. All the plans are in place. But nothing has happened yet, so the potential for disaster still looms. 

Inside the room, Scorpius is out of bed, and wearing clothes rather than pyjamas for the first time in weeks. His jeans, which used to be a perfect, skin-tight fit, are now slightly baggy, and the sleeves of the emerald green knitted jumper, which is definitely Albus's because it has a big silver A plastered across the front, are just a little too short. He looks good though. Not well necessarily, but reasonably okay. He looks closer to his normal self than Albus has seen him look in months, lounging on one of the seats with his feet dangling over the arm of the chair, a big smile on his face as he chats to his dad, a book open but forgotten in his lap.

Draco is sitting beside him, studying what looks like a brightly coloured gossip magazine, covered with a kaleidoscope of moving pictures.

"It says they were having an affair," Draco says, peering at one of the articles.

Scorpius pulls a disgusted face. "Why would she have an affair with him? He looks like a Blast-Ended Skrewt. She deserves so much better."

Draco nods. "I agree. She should have stayed with that Quidditch player. The one from the Harpies."

Scorpius melts on his chair, sighing happily and putting a hand on his heart. "Yes, they were utterly adorable. Maybe she'll see sense, and-" Suddenly he notices Albus standing in the doorway, and he lights up. "Albus!" He swings his legs down from the arm of the chair, planting his bare feet on the ground, and grins.

Albus smiles in return, simply because Scorpius's smile is so bright and infectious. "Hi," he says, dumping his bag on a chair. "Hello, Draco." 

"Good evening, Albus," Draco says, setting the magazine aside. "You got here safely, then."

"I'm a bit sooty, but I'll live." He brushes off his jacket and rushes round the bed to hug Scorpius, who's bounced to his feet. They cling to each other for a long moment, Scorpius burying his face in Albus's shoulder. 

"You look good," Albus murmurs in his ear. "Isn't that my jumper from last Christmas?"

Scorpius's grip on him tightens just a little. "What if it is?"

"Nothing," Albus says quietly, stroking a hand over the soft wool. "I like that you're wearing it. The sleeves are a bit short though." 

Scorpius pulls away and looks down at where his bony wrists are poking out from the sleeves. He smiles. "Just a bit. But the rest of it's fine. It's like wearing a hug from you."

"That's good." Albus runs his hands over Scorpius's shoulders as he surveys him from head to toe. "How have you been this week? You look... you look a bit brighter." 

Scorpius beams and catches hold of one of Albus's hands as he turns to look at Draco. "I've been excellent, haven't I, Dad?" 

Draco nods, a proud little smile on his face. "They've managed to reduce the potions to twice a day-" 

"Which is amazing because they taste utterly foul." 

Draco's smile widens. "And he's been allowed out of bed to start building up some strength again."

"Hence the clothes," Scorpius explains, gesturing to himself. "I feel like a House Elf that's been freed. It's wonderful." He sighs happily, and Albus hugs him again. 

"This is good. This is _excellent_. I'm happy for you." 

"It's nice," Scorpius says, eyes shining in a way they haven't for months, "feeling like I'm on the road to recovery." 

"How has your week been, Albus?" Draco asks. 

"Not as good as- Scorpius!" 

Scorpius has sat down suddenly, holding Albus's hand and dragging him down too, so Albus has no choice but to collapse half onto his lap. There's not enough room for two people to fit side by side. "I can't sit on you, I'll squash you! I forgot how much trouble you cause when you're feeling well." 

"Sorry," Scorpius says, with the kind of smug grin that suggests he isn't sorry at all.

"Behave," Albus chides, then turns back to Draco, now painfully aware that he has to hold a civilised conversation with him while sitting on Scorpius's lap. He can feel his face heating up, but he does his best to remain casual, as if nothing has happened. "It hasn't been as good as yours, I don't think. Just classes and work really. And I've been doing some Prefect duties too, since our normal one is indisposed." 

Scorpius flails beneath him in amazement. "They asked you to be Prefect while I'm not there? You didn't tell me that!" 

Albus looks round at him. "Is that okay? I suppose I should have asked." 

"No! It's perfect." Scorpius hugs him tight round the middle. "I couldn't think of anyone better. You'll make them regret having picked me in the first place." 

Albus snorts. "I doubt it. I caught these two seconds years trying to set off one of those Portable Swamps outside the Potions dungeon, and I tried to tell them to stop, but they just ignored me and did it anyway." 

"Wow," Scorpius says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Clearly you were really scary." 

"I yelled at them... but it didn't help. I'm not sure I'm meant to be an authority figure." 

Scorpius rubs his back sympathetically. "I'm sorry the little kids didn't listen to you."

Albus shakes his head. "It was okay. A bit embarrassing, but I don't really mind. Those swamps are cool." 

"No," Scorpius says. "You're right. You really aren't meant to be an authority figure." 

Albus sticks his tongue out at him. They both look at each other for a moment, then collapse against each other, laughing. Scorpius puts a hand on Albus's waist, and leans his chin on his shoulder. 

"You know McGonagall has started teaching us about Animagi too?" Albus asks, glancing back at him. 

Scorpius lights up with fascination. "What did she tell you? Did you bring me any books about it? I've always wanted to learn about the process of becoming an Animagus. I read it's terribly painful and very difficult to do, and-" 

Draco gets up. "Will you two be alright for a minute? This seems like a good time to go and get some dinner. Do you want anything, either of you?" 

Albus's heart stops. Scorpius goes completely still and silent, and his fingers pinch Albus's side as his grip tightens. Albus doesn't know what to do or say. 

They agreed they'd leave whenever Draco went out to get dinner, but neither of them expected it to be so soon. They've been ready for this moment for a week, but right now Albus feels like he's never been less ready for anything before in his life. He feels slightly sick, his nerves making his stomach flutter and flop.

"No," Scorpius says, in a strangled voice. He coughs. "No. I'm okay. Albus?"

Albus shakes his head. His mouth is too dry to say anything. 

"We're- we're good," Scorpius says, and Albus can almost hear the strained smile he must be giving his dad. 

Draco looks at them, grey eyes flickering back and forth between them. "Is everything alright?" He asks, in the sort of voice that denotes suspicion. 

They both nod, and he surveys them carefully.

"You would tell me, wouldn't you, if there were something going on?" 

They glance at each other, and Scorpius taps Albus lightly on the side. Albus wriggles out of the way to let him get up. 

"There's nothing for you to worry about," Scorpius says, giving his dad a small smile.

Draco lowers his voice. "You can say that as much as you like, but-"

Scorpius hugs him. "Don't worry, Dad. Please. We'll be fine here. I hope you have a good dinner."

Draco gives him a gentle squeeze. "Scorpius-"

"I love you, Dad." He pulls away and wraps his arms round himself. 

Draco frowns at Scorpius, then glances at Albus. "Whatever the two of you are planning, I'll be back in half an hour, and I expect you both to be here, in one piece, when I return." 

Scorpius nods. The sleeves of Albus's jumper apparently aren't long enough for Scorpius to hide his hands inside, so he clenches his fists instead, digging his fingernails into his palms. "We will be," he lies. 

Draco gives a curt nod, eyes them for a moment longer, then walks away. "I'll see you in a bit then." 

Scorpius stares after his dad, until the door bangs shut. He twitches at the noise, crumpling in on himself, and sinks onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. Albus gets slowly to his feet and walks over to him. He sits on the bed beside him and puts a hand on his back. 

"Scorpius..." 

"I'm fine." His voice sounds strained, and anything but fine.

"We don't have to do this if you don't-"

Scorpius sniffs. "Yes. We do." He wipes his eyes on the back of his hand, and smears tears across his cheeks. "But that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it." 

Albus sighs and stares down at his hands. "We're really going to hurt him, aren't we... I don't think your dad deserves any more pain." 

"Your parents aren't exactly going to be happy either," Scorpius mutters. "We're just going to disappear, Albus. Again. Do you remember how badly it went last time?" 

"Yes, I do." He picks miserably at his nails. "Of course I do." He glances up at Scorpius. "Maybe... maybe we should rethink this. We could just talk to them, and-"

"No. No, no. No." Scorpius wipes his eyes again. "No, we can't back out of this now. We made a plan, and we're going to stick to it. Rose is expecting us at school. If we have to wait and convince people..." He looks at Albus. "This is going to hurt, but it _will_ be worth it. And maybe our parents will be angry with us forever, but at least I'll be alive. Alive and in trouble for the rest of my life is far better than the alternative, don't you think?" 

Albus considers for a moment before nodding.

"Exactly," Scorpius says. "So I'm going to do this. And if you don't want to come that's fine. You may be the thrill-seeker of this couple, but this isn't your problem." He puts a hand on Albus's arm. "I would understand if you wanted to stay behind and get on with your school work. That would be more-"

Albus takes his face in both hands and kisses him firmly. When they part, Scorpius blinks at him. 

"Okay... so I'm assuming this means you _are_ coming?" 

Albus nods. "Yes," he says. "I'm coming." 

"Alright." Scorpius gets to his feet and looks around the room. "Alright. Then I suppose we should go..." 

"I suppose so," Albus says, also getting up.

Albus paces round the room while Scorpius puts his shoes on and gathers together the few belongings he's bringing with him. Then Albus unfurls the Invisibility Cloak from his bag, and they both vanish beneath it. It's not hard to sneak downstairs to the fireplaces, where emerald flames whisk them away into the night.

Half an hour later, Draco returns to find the room completely deserted. For several seconds he stares around wildly, wondering whether this is some sort of trick, whether the two of them are hiding somewhere. But he doesn't consider the possibility for long. He'd known they were up to something, but _this_... They're gone. Vanished. And he has no idea where they are, whether Scorpius is okay, when they might be back. 

He looks around at the abandoned room, at the neatly made bed, the books stacked in a tidy pile on the bedside table, all the belongings gone. It takes him a second or two to spot the parchment envelope lying on the pillow at the head of the bed, but when he does he rushes over and picks it up. 

The single word 'Dad' is written on the front in Scorpius's big, loopy hand writing. He's used his own seal to close it, silver wax, with the Malfoy crest and Scorpius constellation pressed into it. With a shaking hand, dreading the answers contained within, Draco splits open the seal, unfolds the letter inside, and reads. 

_Dad,_

_I'm not sure where to start with this. Formal written communication has never been my strong suit. Apart from essays. I'm quite good at those. Anyway, I mainly wanted to let you know where I am._

_I suppose I don't really know where I'll be when you read this, but I will be safe, and I definitely won't be lost in time, which will make a nice change! Albus and I are going on a sort of quest (I hope it'll be as cool as the word quest makes it sound), and we're not sure where it'll take us, but we're very well prepared and we're going to take good care of me._

_The thing is, Albus, Rose, and I have found out what's wrong with me. I think we both thought that it wasn't Mum's disease, and it's not; we've found a way to cure it. We thought about telling you and the Healers, but we didn't know whether that would help. You know how when the Hospital gets involved in things like this, everyone starts talking about percentages and options and risks and things, and... well I don't know how much time I have left._

_I promise we're being safe and sensible. No unnecessary risks. I know you'll worry about us anyway, and I'm really sorry for that, but I hope you understand how important this is. You've already lost Mum. I don't want you to lose me too. I don't particularly like the idea of dying myself._

_When I come back I will be better. Either that or I'll be dead, but Albus and I are going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen._

_No matter what, I want you to know that I love you. You're my dad, and you're brilliant, and I want to get better so you don't have to suffer any more._

_I hope I see you soon._

_Love,_

_Scorpius_

Draco reads the letter twice, then without hesitation, without pause for thought, he gets up and marches from the room. He goes outside into the street and turns into darkness, disappearing in a swirl of black robes. 

 

It's late on Friday evening, and Harry has arrived home so late from work that he and Ginny have only just sat down to eat. 

"I'm starving," Harry says, sighing with anticipation as he picks up his knife and fork. 

Ginny smiles. "I can imagine, with all those raids. Please don't tell me you skipped lunch again?" 

He shakes his head. "Ethel brought sandwiches to our meeting. That woman is a hero. I wish I could convince Perkins up in Finance that I need a-"

He breaks off as someone starts hammering on the front door. Ginny frowns at him. They both set their cutlery down and look out towards the hall. 

"Are we expecting anyone?" Harry asks. "Albus is supposed to be at the hospital tonight."

"James isn't coming," Ginny says. "He has training. And Lily's at school... If they were all here I'd think it was just another Quaffle through next door's window, but-" 

Harry gets up. "I should probably go and-"

"Sit down," Ginny says, waving him back into his seat. "You've had a long day. I can deal with it."

"You're sure?" Harry asks, sinking back down. "Your dinner will get cold."

"I'm not going to be long," she says. As she strides from the kitchen, she tucks her wand into her back pocket, just in case. 

When she gets into the hall she can see a figure distorted behind the frosted glass in the front door, someone tall and black-robed, pacing back and forth across the front step. Frowning, she opens the door a few inches and sees Draco Malfoy standing outside their house. There's a crumpled piece of parchment in his hand and he looks deadly serious. 

All her caution melts away and she opens the door the whole way. "Draco, I thought you'd be at the hospital. Is everything alright?" 

Draco turns toward her and steps forward. His expression is hard and cold, and he has the air of a man who intends to let nothing stand in his way. Tall, intimidating, determined. "I need to talk to your husband. Immediately." 

Ginny positions herself in the middle of the doorway and folds her arms, standing her ground against him. "My husband has had a long day at work and is eating his dinner." 

Draco's eyes blaze. "This is of the utmost importance."

"You can come in and wait while we eat, or you can come back in ten minutes," Ginny says. "Surely there can't be anything that won't wait ten-"

"Scorpius and Albus are missing." Draco drops his voice and takes another step forward, waving the parchment envelope. "I left the room for half an hour and they disappeared. They left this. And now I need to speak to Harry." His voice is very strained, and there's a glint of desperation in his eyes.

Ginny swallows and stares at the letter. "They're missing? Again?" 

Draco gives a curt, tense nod. "It seems to be a recurring theme with our sons. May I come in?" 

"Yes," she says, stepping back, feeling slightly stunned. "Yes, of course. And you can speak to both of us, not just Harry. Albus is my son too." 

Draco pauses for a moment, then nods. Ginny holds the door as he steps over the threshold. He looks weary, but still solid and resilient as he marches down the hall to the kitchen. Ginny hopes she looks as determined, but inside she's still reeling. This makes no sense. Why would the two boys be missing together? Why this time? There hasn't been another fight; those stopped years ago. There's no reason for this at all. It's completely out of the blue. 

 Harry looks up as they enter the kitchen. "Who was- Draco." His fork falls to his plate with a clatter. "What are you doing here? I thought you were at St Mungo's with Scorpius."

"Scorpius is no longer at St Mungo's, so there's no reason for me to be there." He strides across the room and tosses the envelope down onto the table beside Harry's plate. 

Harry frowns down at it. "What's this?" He picks it up. "Is this for me to read?" 

"You always find ways to intimately acquaint yourself with my personal life, despite my best efforts to maintain privacy," Draco snaps. "I don't see why this should be any different, and I'd rather you saw it on my terms." 

Harry lowers the letter and stares at him. "I don't have to if-"

"Just read the damn letter, Potter." He sinks into a seat at the table and runs a hand over his face. 

Ginny briefly lays a comforting hand on Draco's back as she passes to stand behind Harry and read over his shoulder. Harry gets to the end of the letter first, and when he does he looks up at Draco and shakes his head.

"I don't understand..."

"Comprehension has never been your strong point, has it?" Draco asks, not even glancing at him. 

"They've run away again?" Harry asks, ignoring him and looking back at the letter. "Instead of talking to anyone?" He glances at Draco. "I thought Scorpius was too sick to leave hospital."

Draco finally looks at him properly. "He is. But clearly your son has convinced him that his only solution is to do something, go somewhere, to find a cure for some mystery disease that they've apparently diagnosed." 

"My son?" Harry replies, tone heating up. "I'm not sure how you think you can blame Albus for this. Scorpius is hardly coercible. I'm sure he's just as responsible for this as-"

"Scorpius has never got into trouble without Albus leading him into it," Draco cuts in, leaning across the table and pointing at Harry. "If my son dies because of Albus, I will never forgive you, Harry Potter." 

"If-" Harry shakes his head. "Scorpius isn't going to die, Draco. And even if he does it'll be because he's sick, not because of Albus." 

Draco gives a derisive snort. "Taking him from hospital? Convincing him there's some kind of cure for his illness, that if he doesn't act now it'll be too late? Your son is impulsive. As reckless as you are." 

"Excuse me," Harry says, "I am not reckless." 

Draco's chair scrapes across the floor as he flies to his feet, wand drawn. "You play games with people's lives! With my son's life! And Albus is no better, bringing back Voldemort, nearly destroying everything."

"He saved the world!" Harry shouts, also on his feet. 

Draco gives his wand a dismissive flick, and sparks fizzle across the ceiling, leaving char marks on the stonework. "They did it together. Without Scorpius-"

Harry draws breath to retort, but Ginny cuts in, interrupting the excruciating volume of their yelling, and heading off the impending duel. 

She slaps the letter hard onto the table and glares between the two of them. "If you could stop shouting for five minutes, that would be exceptionally pleasant!"

They both fall silent, but continue glaring at each other across the table, shoulders squared, Draco's wand still drawn, Harry fuming, fingers dug into his pocket and balled round the handle of his own wand. 

"Thank you," Ginny says, with a relieved sigh. "Arguing will solve absolutely nothing." She gestures down at the letter. "According to this they are at least together. I'd far rather they were together than apart." She looks across at Draco, softening her tone. "Those boys care deeply for each other. I don't think for a second that Albus would allow any harm to come to Scorpius. He's been devastated by his illness." 

Draco waves a hand, rings flashing in the light. "Then this is excruciating naivety." 

"Perhaps," Ginny says placatingly. "But I won't let you blame Albus or Harry for this. Harry and I knew as little about this as you did." 

"Do you have any idea where they might be?" Harry asks, in a voice of determined calm. "Draco, where would Scorpius go?" 

"If they're searching for something, they could be anywhere," Ginny murmurs.

"His favourite place on earth is Hogwarts," Draco says, putting his wand away and moving round the table to join them. "I know he's missed it. It's unlikely he would go somewhere that obvious, but it might be somewhere to start. We should contact Minerva. It's the only idea I have." 

Ginny glances across at him. He's staring down at the letter on the table, lost and helpless. 

"I think that's a good idea," she says gently. "At least then we'd have reinforcements. Harry, will you go and get the Floo Powder?"

Harry looks between the two of them and nods. "I'll be back in a second." 

Once he's left the room, Draco sinks into a seat and puts a hand over his face. "I knew they were up to something. Scorpius was being strange, but I thought it was just... I don't know what I thought. I didn't expect them to disappear." 

"We'll find them," Ginny says, forcing herself to sound certain, even though that's far from how she feels. "We found them last time, and there were Time-Turners involved then. This is far more simple." 

"There wasn't a time limit then," Draco mutters, inspecting his fingers. "Who knows how quickly Scorpius will deteriorate away from St Mungo's. I might never-" he breaks off, words choking in his throat. 

"We _will_ find them," Ginny says, walking round the table to briefly rest a hand on his shoulder. "As fast as we can."

Draco doesn't say anything to that, he just keeps twisting his wedding ring round his finger until Harry returns with the Floo Powder.


	7. Into the Chamber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius is overjoyed to be home, and the adventure begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy nineteen years later everyone! 
> 
> And thanks as always for the amazing comments. I look forward to reading them every week, and you never disappoint. You're all awesome. <3

Scorpius throws himself on his favourite sofa in the Slytherin Common Room and hugs as many of the cushions as he can. He buries his face in the leather and inhales deeply.

Albus stuffs the Invisibility Cloak into his bag, and follows him across the room, brushing soot from his clothes. "What are you doing?" He asks with a little laugh. It's been so long since he and Scorpius were free to mess around together that he's almost forgotten how odd his boyfriend can be. 

"I am smelling it," Scorpius says, voice muffled because his face is still smushed into the couch seat. 

Albus walks over and ruffles his hair. "That's completely disgusting. People sit on that all the time. I dread to think what else has happened on it. It's probably really unhygienic." 

"But it smells of home, Albus." He surfaces, grinning as he sits up, still hugging the cushions. "It smells of Slytherin, and sweaty students, and... and pure joy." 

Albus shakes his head in despair. "You're ridiculous. And whatever that thing smells of, you're getting soot all over it." 

Scorpius looks down at the black marks he's smeared all over the emerald green cushions, and immediately hops to his feet. "Whoops." 

Albus glances at the clock on the wall. "Also, we should probably hurry up. Your dad might have noticed we're missing by now, and we need to meet Rose." 

Scorpius folds his arms, and gives Albus a teasing glare. "You're not going to give me a minute to revel in my glorious homecoming?"

Albus smiles. "I wasn't planning on it. Come on. I need to get my bag and the Map from our dorm." 

"The dorm," Scorpius sighs, flopping onto his back on the couch with an expression of pure rapture on his face. "When we go up there, don't let me lie down. I might never get up off my bed again." He sits up. "I cannot tell you how much I miss my own bed." 

Albus grins and reaches out to grab his hand and pull him off the sofa. "Don't worry. I'll keep you upright at all costs. If you lie down I might be tempted to join you, and we don't have time to be distracted like that."

Scorpius hops up off the sofa, squeezing Albus's hand. "St Mungo's has deprived me of a lot, hasn't it?" 

"It's deprived both of us," Albus says, looking at him. 

"Sorry," Scorpius murmurs, smile fading a bit.

Albus shakes his head. "No. It's not your fault. We'll just have to make up for lost time when this is all over." 

Scorpius's smile restores itself in an instant, and he hops forward happily, bumping his shoulder against Albus's. "We certainly will." 

Albus grins and holds his hand tighter as they cross the Common Room. Scorpius plays with his fingers as they go, curling and uncurling them, apparently delighted to be allowed to touch Albus properly again.

"That doesn't hurt you, does it?" Albus asks as they set off up the stairs, glancing at him. "Holding my hand like that?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "The potions work well for things like this." He swings their hands back and forth, but Albus stops, turning back to face him properly. 

"Scorpius-"

Scorpius hops up onto the same step as Albus and puts a finger to his lips, cutting him off. Then he leans in and kisses him. "I'm fine," he murmurs when he pulls away, eyes bright with happiness. 

"But the disease-" Albus swallows. "You read that book. I mean..." he trails off. He wants to suggest being careful, wants to point out that just because something doesn't hurt doesn't mean it's not causing damage, but at the sight of Scorpius's smile the words die in his mouth. "Alright," he murmurs.

Scorpius squeezes his hand. "Come on. We need to see Rose." He pats Albus on the arm. "There's no need to look so worried. This is going to be great." 

Albus nods, and pushes a smile onto his face. "I know." 

 

Rose is pacing up and down the corridor outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom when they arrive. Her arms are crossed and she's wearing her Head Girl face, like she means business. Albus guesses she's probably trying to pretend that she's on duty here, so no one tells her off. 

As they round the corner she turns on her heel and starts pacing back towards them. The second she lays eyes on Scorpius, her focused expression collapses into pure relief. She runs toward him and hugs him as tightly as she can, almost leaving her feet because he's so much taller than she is. Scorpius accepts the hug, looking surprised but pleased. 

"Okay, um. Hello, Rose. Do we hug too now?" 

Immediately she pulls back and brushes herself off, trying to look casual. "No. Of course not. It's just, you know..." she waves a hand at him. "It's nice to see you out of bed. You look better. More colour in your cheeks." 

Scorpius grins and pats at his face. "Thanks. I'm amazed I haven't gone bright red from climbing all those stairs. This place requires far more physical exercise than I've done in the last few weeks." 

Rose smirks, and her gaze flickers between him and Albus. "Does it? I was wondering what kept y-"

"Come on," Albus interrupts. He finishes stuffing the Marauders Map into his bag and stalks across to the bathroom door. There's no time for this kind of chatter, and he certainly doesn't have the energy for Rose's mocking. "I'm not sure how long we have to do this," he says. 

Scorpius trots up to him and nudges his arm. "I know our time is limited, but I'm not going to drop dead in the next five minutes, Albus. I think we can spare a few second for-" 

"Your dad will notice we're missing soon," Albus snaps, the stress and worry a horrible pressure inside his chest that feels like it's about to explode. If they were making a potion for him it would be fine, but this is for Scorpius. It's more important. And until they get out of the school, it's all hanging on a knife edge. "He's going to go and talk to my dad, and then they're going to come here, because it's the most obvious place. I just want to do this and get out of here, because if someone finds us all of this is over, okay?" He pauses and looks at Scorpius. "Your life might be-" he breaks off and swallows, bowing his head. "We need to go." 

He turns back towards the bathroom door, trying to hide the tears that are sparkling in his eyes. 

"Okay," Scorpius murmurs. He sounds a bit shaky and taken aback. "I suppose we should get on with this, then." 

Albus's shoulders slump, and he glances at Scorpius. "I'm sorry. I know this is your mission, but-" 

"No," Scorpius says, putting a hand on his back. "You're right. Too much standing around. We have potioning to do." He gives Albus a little smile and twists the doorknob.

The three of them troop into the bathroom. Rose gives Albus a consoling nudge on the arm as she passes, and Albus glances at her. She shoots him an apologetic smile before bouncing over to join Scorpius in inspecting the sinks. 

The inside of the bathroom is just the way Albus remembers it from the last time he visited, three years ago. A bank of rickety wooden toilet cubicles stretches away to one side, all covered in peeling paint, one of the doors hanging off. Up ahead is a big central column with all the sinks clustered around it. A couple of the sinks seem to be blocked, and are overflowing. Puddles of water glisten on the floor, draining away into the grates, but not fast enough to stop the place flooding. The mirrors are all foggy and scratched. Myrtle is nowhere to be seen. 

"The entrance is through one of the sinks isn't it?" Rose asks. She's standing at the edge of the water, looking down at it with a disgusted expression. 

Scorpius nods. "The tap doesn't work, and there's a snake on it," he says, splashing across the room. "That's what all the books say."

"Why is Myrtle so..." Rose looks around at the room. "I hope none of the toilets are helping to make this flood." She puts the toe of her shoe gingerly into the water, then starts tiptoeing over to the sinks. "No wonder no one ever comes in here." 

"It wasn't this wet last time we were here," Albus says, casting Impervius on his jeans before kneeling down and starting to examine the taps. He runs his fingers over them, searching for something snake-like. He knows he'll feel the texture of it, scratched into the copper. When he doesn't feel anything, he tries turning the tap on and water gushes out. Not that one then.

He gets up and starts moving round the column of sinks, testing the taps, and running and his fingers around the sides of them. Not once does he feel anything other than smooth, cool metal, and he wonders if he's wasting his time, if maybe Scorpius or Rose have already found the way in, but when he glances up to see if either of them have found anything, he finds himself staring into a grinning, pearlescent face. 

He jumps back a step. "Oh! Um, hello, Myrtle." 

"Long time no see," she says, floating closer to him, eyes distorted behind thick glasses. "You've grown since the last time you were here." She reaches out a hand and brushes it past his cheek, and it feels like a chill winter wind rushing over his skin. 

He shivers and pulls back another step. "Have I?" He asks, trying to ignore her and keep his focus the taps. 

"Oh yes," she giggles. "Three years older. And handsomer. You look a lot like your father, and he was always so good looking." She sighs, bobbing in the air. "What's brought you back to visit me? I thought you were never going to-" 

"Albus!" Rose calls. Her voice echoes around the column of sinks and she comes splashing into view. "Who are you- oh." She stops when she sees the ghost. "You must be Moaning Myrtle." 

Albus, sensing danger, opens his mouth to speak, but Scorpius gets there first. He comes running across to them, water going absolutely everywhere.

"No, no," he says. "Not Moaning Myrtle. Just Myrtle." He looks up at her. "Isn't that right?" 

Myrtle, who had been swelling up, presumably in preparation for an almighty tantrum, deflates and gives Scorpius a broad smile. "Correct," she sing-songs, perching on top of the bank of sinks, and crossing one leg over the other. "Myrtle Elizabeth Warren." For a moment she preens, then she comes swooping down very fast, right at Scorpius, who flinches. 

"I remember you too," she says softly. "The brave, pretty Malfoy boy." 

Scorpius goes pink and scratches the back of his neck, avoiding Myrtle's eyes. "I don't know if pretty is quite the right-"

"Pretty and handsome," Myrtle sighs. "Just like your father... when is he going to visit me again? I miss him." She gives a miserable little sniff. "No one ever visits me." 

"Sorry," Scorpius says quickly, before she can start bawling. "My dad doesn't come here very much these days, you know? And we've been busy." He gestures to Albus. "School work and things. It isn't always easy to-" 

"My mum and dad told me about you," Rose interjects, looking across at Myrtle, full of purpose, and apparently sick of the pointless conversation. "You died in here, because the snake from the Chamber killed you. So you know where the entrance is, don't you?" 

"Some people have no time for pleasantries, do they?" Myrtle says, sounding miffed. She does a backflip in the air and glares down at Rose. "They just want to talk about your death. Which is very personal." 

Albus frowns. "But Dad told me you love talking about your death." 

Myrtle draws herself up, looking rather offended by the whole turn of the conversation. "Well, yes of course I do, but it's nice to get to know people first." She shoots Rose a glare, and Rose rolls her eyes. 

"We don't have time for this." She glances at the two boys. "Let's just ignore her and find the entrance ourselves. It can't be hard. We know what we're looking for"

"Rose," Scorpius hisses, "you're being rude." 

"Well we have things to do!" Rose says impatiently. "And she's being obstructive." 

"Oh," Myrtle says, and the air goes icy. "Is that what I am? Obstructive? Well that's very nice." 

"No no," Scorpius says rapidly, stepping between her and Rose and holding an appealing hand out to her. "No, you're not. Rose just meant-"

Myrtle ignores him. She swoops down, and Scorpius dives out of the way. "Maybe you'd like to see just how obstructive I can be!" She says, voice rising in a hysterical shriek. Without any warning she swoops forward, straight through Rose, who gasps and stumbles back from the cold, clutching her chest. Around them, the bathroom starts spewing water. All the taps turn on in one go, and the toilets begin bubbling up. Myrtle sweeps in circles around Rose and Scorpius, who press themselves together, both staring at her, apparently somewhat reluctant to have her fly through them. 

"Albus!" Scorpius calls. "A little help over here?" 

"I wasn't trying to be rude," Rose says to Scorpius, sounding exasperated. "I didn't think she'd be so..." she waves a hand at Myrtle. "Volatile." 

"Volatile!" Myrtle wails, high pitched, echoing through the room and carrying even over the sound of the gushing water. "Volatile and miserable and moaning. That's what you think of me! That's all anyone _ever_ thinks of Myrtle. All she ever does is mope, and cry, and moan!" With the last word she lets out a howl and starts bawling. She covers her face with her hands and dives across the room, straight down one of the toilets. 

Rose gives a relieved sigh. "Well thank goodness for that." She rushes across to the sinks. "While she's busy crying, let's get out of here!" 

"You were a little rude," Scorpius says. "I don't think we've done much for ghost-human relations today." He trots after her to the sinks. 

All the taps are running now, and the sinks themselves are already close to overflowing. All except one. A single sink stands entirely empty, mirror misty, taps rusted from lack of use. 

"It has to be this one," Albus says, looking at it, ears still ringing from Myrtle's wailing, but heart now pounding with excitement and nerves. 

Scorpius eyes it warily. "What do we do now?" 

"We tell it to open," Rose says, stepping across to it and bending down to examine the snake carved into the side of the pipe work. 

"In Parseltongue," Albus murmurs. He glances sideways at Scorpius. "Go on. You're the languages expert here. I know you've been reading about it." 

Scorpius blushes a faint pink and fiddles with the cuffs of his sweater. "The-the thing is... you're not really, you know, supposed to be able to learn Parseltongue. It-it doesn't exactly work that way." He looks between Albus and Rose. "I know it can, technically, be done. You can learn to read it even if you can't speak it. Dumbledore did that. But I am, in fact, not Dumbledore, and nor are either of you so... this might be a slight problem?" He trails off, mumbling the last few words and scratching his ear, avoiding their eyes. 

"Your dad talked to the snake," Myrtle sniffs from behind them, making Albus jump. Tantrum over, she seems to have come to see what's going on. Rose glowers. 

"The one on the tap," Myrtle continues, hovering behind Albus and peering at the sink. She's so cold that she's sending shivers down his spine, but he glances back and nods. 

"Yes, I know that. But I'm not my dad. I don't have a bit of Voldemort in me. I can't talk to snakes." 

Rose folds her arms. "Well, when my parents went down there, my dad imitated your dad, Albus. He just sort of hissed at it and it opened."

Scorpius sighs. "But we've never heard anyone speak Parseltongue before, so we have no one to imitate."

"That's not true!" Albus gasps, realisation dawning on him. "In St Jerome's church. Delphi talked to my dad. It was on the other side of the door, and I didn't hear much... but I know how it sounded. At least, I think I do... maybe I can try?" 

"Maybe we should go for the theoretical approach first?" Rose suggests. "And if that doesn't work, Albus can give it a go." 

Scorpius looks between the two of them and nods. "Me first then," he says, considerably less than enthusiastic. "Brilliant." 

He steps forward, fiddles with the hem of his jumper for a moment, them glares at the misted mirror like he's trying to make it open through sheer willpower. He screws up his face into a ridiculous, contorted expression, and starts hissing. 

Albus knows it isn't right. He doesn't know how he knows, he certainly doesn't understand any of it, but it's as if the sounds are all wrong, coming from the wrong places. He's seen the way Scorpius looks at him whenever he attempts to speak French, a pained sort of grimace as he mangles the language, and he guesses that any snakes in the vicinity would be looking at Scorpius that way now. 

After a few seconds of weird, random hissing noises, Scorpius breaks off and looks expectantly at the sink. Nothing happens. Behind them, Myrtle giggles.

"I don't think you're very good at that." 

"No," Scorpius says. He turns to Albus. "Your go then." 

Albus frowns at the mirror. "What am I supposed to be saying?" 

"Open up," Scorpius says.

"No, the sounds. How do they go together?" 

Scorpius sighs. "I don't know if I'm the best person to ask; that's sort of the problem here. Look at this." He pulls a thin book from the bag he'd brought with him from the hospital. It's bound in something that looks a little like snake skin, and the pages are yellow and crinkling with age. He opens the book to a marked page, and holds it out to Albus, pointing to a particular section of text. "This. If you can decipher this then you're a genius." 

Albus takes the book from him and looks down at it. Behind him, Rose crowds in to peer over his shoulder, and Myrtle drifts nearby, pretending not to be interested but clearly peeking down at the book. 

It's almost like a dictionary, but no dictionary Albus has ever seen before. The English words are accompanied by some kind of bizarre, unreadable, twisting script. It looks like snakes, the way it runs and writhes across the page. It's beautiful in a way, but there's also something strangely sinister about it, so he tries to ignore it and concentrate on the little bits of pronunciation that are spelled out beside some of the words. They're almost as indecipherable as the script itself, and it's easy to see why Scorpius struggled.

"This means absolutely nothing," Rose says, reaching across to stroke a finger down the crinkled paper. "But it's quite cool." 

"It's fascinating," Scorpius agrees enthusiastically, bouncing on his toes. "I've never seen anything like it in my dad's library. This was buried deep in the Restricted Section. You have no idea how many Owls it took to persuade Madam Pince to let me borrow it."

"You're lucky she likes you so much," Rose says, glancing across at him. "I can't believe you got it out of the school." 

"I think she thought I was unlikely to get up to mischief with it in St Mungo's," Scorpius says, giving a little shrug. "Maybe she felt sorry for me. If she did then I am very grateful, because wow... what a find!" He gives a little laugh and claps his hands together, gazing fondly down at the book. 

Albus blocks him out as he scans through the weird symbols and words, tracing his fingers over their shape. In the back of his mind he can hear Delphi's distance voice hissing. She had sounded desperate, like she was gabbling whatever words she was saying, spitting them at her father before he could leave. Maybe it's not the best model for this, but Albus can imagine how the pronunciations in front of him fit with those sounds, and how they would feel inside his mouth. He murmurs his way through the words a few times, too quiet for the others to hear, self-conscious that they might somehow judge him for messing it up. 

Finally, when he feels like he can practice no more, he hands Rose the book and walks across to the sink. 

When he kneels down, the water soaks into the knees of his jeans where he wasn't quite thorough enough with his Impervius, but he ignores it, instead concentrating on the little snake engraved on the side of the tap. He runs his fingers over it and tries to imagine talking to it. The idea seems ludicrous, and he's conscious of the three sets of eyes trained on him. If this doesn't work he's going to look a complete idiot. But his dad has done this; Uncle Ron has done this. It has to be possible.

He takes a deep breath, looks the snake in the eye, and says: "Open up".

Except maybe he doesn't say that, because nothing happens. 

"Your dad didn't do it first time either," Myrtle say conversationally, making him jump. 

"My dad actually knew what he doing though," he mutters. 

There's a familiar anxious pressure rising up inside him. The feeling that there are expectations to live up to here, and he's failing to do so. It's a feeling he's got used to ignoring over the last couple of years, and that's what he tries to do now. It doesn't matter how long it took Harry to do this; Albus is not him. He doesn't have to be. He just has to push everything aside and focus all his attention on the snake. 

The candlelight flickering off the copper makes the sinuous shape shift from side to side, wriggling like a tiny version of a real snake, although one made of burnished metal. Albus gathers himself together, and feels the words slither across his tongue as he says them. 

"Open up." 

It hisses out into the air and hangs there for a moment, coiling and writhing in the stillness and silence. Then, suddenly, a white light flashes out from the tap in front of him, and he stumbles back as it begins to spin. He trips over his feet and feels Scorpius's hands catch him, steadying him, squeezing his shoulders. 

"You did it!" He crows, patting Albus on the back. "That was amazing!" 

Albus nods, stunned beyond words that he seems to have actually managed to open the Chamber. All he can do is stare as the sink disappears out of sight, grating downward into the floor to reveal a pipe big enough for a grown man to fit into. He gets to his feet, takes a few cautious steps forward, and peers down into the pipe.

"Is this it?" He asks. He feels almost disappointed by the grimy stonework. He'd been expecting something grander. 

Scorpius bounces behind him. "Yes it is! Slytherin's Chamber." He shakes both Rose and Albus's shoulders and beams. "This is so exciting." 

Albus glances at him and sees that his eyes are shining. He can't help but smile back, Scorpius's enthusiasm is so infectious. Maybe this is a little bit exciting after all. 

Rose takes a couple of tentative steps forward and peers down into the pipe. "It's very slimy," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I'd have thought Slytherin would be more fastidious about this sort of thing. Although I suppose it was designed more for the giant snake than for humans..." She shrugs and steps forward, putting a hand on the lip of the pipe. "I'll see you two at the bottom then." And with that she swings herself into the darkness and disappears.

"Rose!" Scorpius shrieks, rushing to the edge of the pipe and peering in. 

"Good riddance," Myrtle says, arms folded. "She was very rude. Maybe you two should just leave her down there and stay up here with me." She grins and twirls a strand of hair round one finger.

"No," Scorpius says firmly, turning to Albus. "We have to go in there. Come on." He beckons to Albus, and they stand shoulder to shoulder, gazing down into the pipe. It's very dark down there. 

"What happens if it's just vertical?" Scorpius asks in a very small voice. "Or if there's a trap at the bottom?" He glances at Albus. "There could be a pit of spikes down there. How do we know this isn't a terrible idea? This might kill us, Albus." 

Albus grips the edge of the pipe and puts one foot in. "My dad did it," he says, trying to inject more confidence into his voice than he feels.

"Yes but your dad was-" 

Albus reaches out his free hand, grabs hold of Scorpius's jumper, and pulls him in for a kiss. Scorpius flails his hands around and makes a tiny noise of surprise and pleasure. When Albus releases him, he stumbles back, eyes wide and cheeks pink. 

"Okay!" He squeaks. "What was that for?" 

Albus grins. "In case there's a pit of spikes at the bottom." He pats Scorpius on the chest, then turns and drops into the pipe. 

It's like whizzing down a slide. A very slimy, rather bumpy slide. Albus can't help but let out a whoop of delight as wind rushes through his hair, and his stomach swoops from the fast downward motion. Occasionally he sees other pipes, far smaller than the one they're in, flying past, little tiny pinpricks of light in the damp darkness. 

Scorpius must be following him down, because he can hear someone bumping round corners behind him. The pipe keeps winding round and down, throwing them unceremoniously from side to side. Albus images he'll probably be covered in bruises when he's done, but the experience is thrilling. If this is how they die, at least it won't be boring. 

They seem to be hurtling downwards for a very long time. Albus wonders where they are, and how much further they have to go. The air is becoming chillier by the moment, and he guesses they must be far below the school by now, maybe even below the dungeons. And just when he wonders how it's possible for them to go any deeper –and starts having visions of them keeping going forever – the pipe flattens out and he shoots out of the end, thrown into another dark, damp, stone tunnel. 

He lands with a bump on his backside, but manages to roll over and stumble to his feet. He tries to brush himself off but he's drenched in water and slime. He pulls his wand from his pocket and waves it over himself, trying to siphon off some of the muck, but it isn't at all effective. It was a mistake wearing these jeans. They're his favourite pair and they're ruined. His mum is going to kill him. 

There's a crunching noise behind him as Scorpius sprawls out of the tunnel, rolling across the ground. He gets all tangled up in his jacket for a second, but eventually he gets himself free and scrambles to his feet, hair sticking up, a broad grin on his face. "I think that was actually fun! Terrifying, but fun." There's slime streaked across one of his cheeks, and his pale hair is spattered with gritty green gloop. He already looks like he's been through a lot, and they've barely started.

"What took you both so long?" Rose asks, pushing away from the wall where she's been casually leaning, waiting for them. She's already cleaned herself off and lit her wand.

"It's a long slide," Albus says.

"And we're not all Gryffindor who'll happily throw ourselves to our deaths," Scorpius adds, smiling at her. 

"Well you knew we could make it down here alive. I'm not sure what all the fuss is about really; it's just a dark, damp tunnel down here." She holds her wand up higher, above her head, so it casts light into the tunnel, showing how it snakes, sinuous and glistening with water, away into the distant darkness. "Do you think we're under the lake?" 

Albus lights his own wand and holds it up too. "Definitely." There's water dripping down the walls and running across the floor. The whole place smells of damp, musty age. Albus breathes it in. It's not an unpleasant smell – not mouldy or anything – in fact, he quite likes it. It's the smell of quiet, unexplored places; of history; of adventure. 

Holding his wand in front of him he sets off walking down the dark corridor, feet making damp, sploshy sounds, and occasionally connecting with pebbles and animal bones, which rattle and echo off into the far distance. 

"Albus," Scorpius hisses, rushing up behind him. The sound of his feet and voice reverberates down the corridor, and he immediately stops dead. "Where are you going?" He murmurs, breath misting in the frigid air.

"Forward," Albus whispers back, suddenly hearing a slight tremble of fear in his voice that wasn't there before. Now he's in the tunnel itself, facing the darkness, it feels a lot more terrifying than it did just a moment ago standing at the bottom of the pipe. 

"Is that a good idea?" Scorpius mutters. "Shouldn't we... I don't know... think about this a bit first?" 

Albus looks at him, then beyond him to Rose, who looks determined and confident. "I don't think we have a choice," he says, trying to channel her bravery. "We can't go back up the slide... the only way is forward." 

Scorpius stares off down the tunnel, eyes glittering with terror. "Okay," he says, in a soft, shaky murmur. "Okay." 

They set off walking into the darkness. The splashes from their footsteps echo off the walls, even when they're trying their best to tiptoe along. Neither of them says a word, and Albus can hear the blood pounding in his ears. He's scared to breathe too loudly or walk too fast, in case some creature hears them and attacks from the shadows. The endless darkness stretching ahead and behind only fuels his paranoid imagination, and he wishes he could see just a little further, or that Slytherin had thought to put candelabras down here, just for a bit more light. 

At some point, Rose takes the lead from Albus. She seems unfazed, marching ahead with her wand held high. She's striding along with such confidence, in fact, that when she suddenly stops dead, Albus walks straight into the back of her, and Scorpius crashes into him in turn. 

"Why have we stopped?" Scorpius asks, putting his hands on Albus's hips and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

"Because there's a wall of rubble in front of us," Rose says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Scorpius lets go of Albus and dodges to the side to have a look, and Albus follows behind him. Up ahead there's a solid, dark barricade of stone, looming out of the shadows and blocking their path. 

"This is where Gilderoy Lockhart lost his memory!" Scorpius gasps. He steps up to the stone and runs his hands over it. "I can't believe we're actually here." 

Rose sighs. "Is this really the time for geeking out? We need to work out how we're going to get through this thing."

"It's not a dead end though," Albus says, "right, Scorpius?" 

Scorpius turns round and beams at him. "Correct." He gestures along the wall with his wand, until the light shines on a sizeable gap in the rubble. "This is how your dad got back, Albus. And this is how Ron and Hermione got through during the war." He strolls over to it, actually smiling now, all his fear seeming to vanish in the face of an obstacle he knows the full history of. "Come on, we're nearly there." 

He shoves his wand into his belt and hauls himself up through the hole. Albus hears the crunch as he lands on the other side, and for once it sounds like he's managed to stay on his feet. Rose and Albus glance at each other, and Albus shrugs and follows Scorpius through the hole, Rose scrambling through after him. 

Albus slithers down the rubble on the other side. His knees buckle when he lands, and he puts a hand down on the grimy ground. When he straightens up, he almost walks into Scorpius, who is standing stock still, staring at a dark, coiled shape stretching across the ground. 

"Um, what is that?" Albus asks. 

"I think it's the skin," Rose breathes, and her voice is a little more high-pitched than usual, belying a tiny note of fear. "When your dad, and my mum and dad were down here, there was a Basilisk skin." 

"A skin for a Basilisk which is definitely very very dead," Scorpius adds, like he's trying to reassure himself. 

Albus inches toward it, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as he can. The fog of his breath swirls and eddies in the silver wandlight, and he wishes his heart would beat more quietly. It's so loud in his ears that he doesn't understand how the thumping doesn't echo through chamber. 

When he reaches the dark mass on the ground, he raises his wand, casting the light so he can examine it, and he finds that Rose is right. It's a huge, coiled snake skin. Poisonous green, scales in almost perfect condition, still not decayed even after all this time. There's nothing to fear from it. 

He looks back at the others and beckons them over. "It's safe. Definitely just the skin." 

They both walk over to him, and Scorpius crouches down and runs his fingers over the scales. 

"Wow," he says, a tiny squeak of wonder. The light falls across his face, and Albus can see him shining with excitement. "This was once part of Slytherin's snake... Slytherin's!" He looks up at them. "This is fascinating." 

"Just wait until we see the body of the real thing," Rose says, and Scorpius flails his hands and rushes to his feet. His fear seems to have melted away completely now, replaced with nothing but the geeky enthusiasm that Albus has seen carry him through so many dark situations. 

"You're right!" He crows. "Let's go then." He makes a grand gesture away down the corridor, but makes his voice go all low and spooky. "Further into the Chamber." With a grin he catches hold of Albus's hand and sets off.

Albus squeezes Scorpius's hand tightly and hurries to keep pace with him. His fingers are icy cold, and Albus can feel him shivering just a bit, so he presses in closer to his side. Scorpius glances at him, and seems perfectly happy to lean into him as they walk towards the end of the tunnel. 

It's only a couple more minutes of walking before another dark wall swells out of the gloom. This one is a lot bigger and more intimidating than the rubble pile, and it seems to glitter in the distance. As they approach, Albus realises that there are two carved stone serpents, entwined on the wall. The glittering comes from their eyes, which are set with bright emeralds. They look beady, almost lifelike, glinting out of the darkness. 

"Go on, Albus," Rose says, giving him a gentle nudge.

He swallows and steps forward, knowing exactly what he has to do. He stares up into the eyes of the snakes and takes a deep breath. 

"Open up," he hisses, or at least, that's what he hopes the sounds mean. They're starting to feel a little more familiar in his mouth, but that doesn't mean anything. He could have learned them wrong. But apparently he hasn't.

To his surprise and relief, the snakes immediately react at the sound of his voice, separating and slithering away. The wall cracks into two halves, and they part, sliding back into the wall with a soft, hissing, grinding noise. Within seconds there's nothing left in front of them but a forbidding, circular opening, leading away into unknown darkness... 


	8. Running the Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco, Harry, and Ginny begin to search for Albus and Scorpius, and Albus, Scorpius, and Rose begin to search for the ingredients. The Basilisk Fangs should be easy to get, but the Chamber of Secrets has a sting in its tail...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be honest, I only realised how long this chapter was when I put it into a word doc last night. If this isn't the longest chapter then it's one of the top two. I'm not sure if I should apologise or not...

Draco is the first one out of the fireplace. It's not his most elegant exit from the Floo network, and he's dumped unceremoniously on the floor with a little puff of ash. With all the dignity he can muster he brushes himself off and picks himself up off the floor. 

"Draco," Minerva says in surprise, looking up from a document she's reading. "I wasn't expecting any visitors this evening." She rises to her feet. "How can I help you?" 

"Scorpius-" Draco begins, but at that moment Harry falls out of the fireplace behind him, cutting him off and charging into battle.

"Scorpius and Albus have gone missing from St Mungo's," he says, almost breathless he's speaking so fast. There's soot on his face but he doesn't seem to care. "We need to know if they're here." 

Draco feels slightly wrong-footed by the interruption; Harry has taken the words right out of his mouth. Those words explain his entire focus, the need to find his son, and now they're already out there he doesn't know what else to say. Thankfully he's spared the struggle as green firelight flickers through the office and Ginny steps into the room. 

"Professor," she says, brushing herself off. "We're so sorry to intrude. I imagine you're busy, but-" she glances at Draco, who glares at her, arms folded, and she stops. 

Draco feels irritation, exhaustion, and intense worry bubble up inside him. He doesn't have the energy for any of this. He doesn't want to fight with the Potters. He doesn't want to explain that apparently he's been failing his son again. He just wants to go home and go to bed, and know that Scorpius is sleeping safely somewhere nearby. But Scorpius isn't safe. He's sick and he's missing, so Draco will summon up the strength to fight to the death for him. 

Draco strides to McGonagall's desk and looks her in the eye. "I need to find my son. If he were anywhere he'd be here." 

The Headmistress looks at him, then she glances at Harry and Ginny. Finally she takes her seat, and gestures for the three of them to sit as well. "Perhaps you should start from the beginning," she says. "Why would Scorpius and Albus be here? I thought Scorpius was in St Mungo's." 

There's a collection of chairs clustered around a table on the other side of the office. Draco summons three over with a wave of his wand, and sits down, pulling himself closer to the desk. "They were in the room at St Mungo's. I left them alone, both of them together. I thought they would be alright, that they wouldn't do anything stupid, but when I returned..." He looks Minerva right in the eye. "I know you understand the gravity of Scorpius's condition, and how important it is to find him as soon as possible." 

She nods, her expression soft and concerned. "Of course," she says gently. "Is there any indication that Scorpius and Albus are at Hogwarts? Anything concrete?" She glances in Harry's direction. 

Harry shakes his head. "If you're asking if I've had any dreams... this isn't related to Voldemort. I haven't felt anything. I don't _know_ anything. We just thought-"

"Hogwarts is Scorpius's favourite place on earth," Draco says, purposeful and direct, in an attempt to keep his voice from belying any of the fragility that's in his heart. "He's missed it terribly. I think we should start with searching Slytherin House, and then cover the rest of the school. If he isn't here, then..." 

"And you're certain Albus is with him?" Minerva asks.

"I can't imagine them being apart," Ginny says. "They're inseparable."

"Alright." Minerva looks at Harry again. "I don't suppose you thought to bring that map of yours with you?"

Draco feels a spark of excitement. How could he have forgotten the Map? It's the obvious solution. If Albus and Scorpius are here they'll know in an instant. 

"You'd better have that map with you, Potter," he says. "If you don't, you're going home to get it right-" 

"I gave it to Albus," Harry mutters, so quietly that Draco almost doesn't hear him. He looks down at his knees, avoiding everyone's eyes, and pushes his glasses up his nose. 

"Excuse me?" Draco asks turning to stare at him.

Harry looks up at him, green eyes sparkling with remorse. "I'm sorry, Draco. I gave it to Albus this summer. As a back to school present. I didn't think I'd need it again. I thought-" 

"I think I might have misheard," Draco says, holding out a hand to stop him. "I think you just said that you gave away the best chance we have of finding our sons. That even though you know how useful it was last time, you gave it to Albus so he can what, sneak into Honeydukes at the weekend?" He shakes his head. "No. That can't be right. Not even you, not _even_ you, could be so completely and irretrievably idiotic." 

"I hoped this wouldn't happen again!" Harry explodes, voice rising, a trapped animal, defending himself from the truth of his own stupidity. "Albus isn't angry anymore. We're getting on. I knew he'd like it, that Scorpius would appreciate the history of it. I thought it would be okay!" 

"Scorpius can't appreciate the history of anything if he's dead," Draco spits, bitter anger bursting in his chest. "And that's what's going to happen thanks to-" 

"No one is going to die," Ginny interrupts. She looks between the two of them, and Draco can see that she, at least, is as distraught as he is. "Please, both of you. Our sons are together. Do you really think they're going to let anything happen to each other?" 

"It wouldn't be the first time Albus has led Scorpius into trouble."

Harry starts to retort, but Minerva cuts him off, voice projecting over the top of the argument, powerful and strong. 

"We'll find them. We'll turn the school upside down if we have to. We can cut off the secret entrances so they can't escape. If they're anywhere here we'll find them, and I think we should start with the Slytherin dormitories. Wouldn't that be the first place they'd go?" 

Draco nods, doing his best to restrain himself and keep himself calm. "Scorpius considers it home." 

"They aren't that stupid," Harry mutters. "To go there... It's too obvious."

"If you have a better-" Draco cuts himself off as Ginny puts a hand on both his and Harry's arms, glancing between them. Harry's jaw is tight and his eyes are narrowed, but he doesn't argue any further, and Draco doesn't either. 

The walk from the Head's office down to the dungeons has never felt longer. It wasn't this bad when Scorpius had just finished telling them all about the horrors of that other world, the one with Voldemort. That walk had been silent and awkward, and full of turmoil. It wasn't even this bad the second time the boys disappeared, even though Draco's insides were churning with terror of what might have happened, even though Draco was convinced he might have lost Scorpius forever. No, somehow today is even worse. The corridors are dark and dingy and silent. They feel cold, and they get even colder, the further they snake down into the belly of the castle. 

Albus and Scorpius won't be there. Draco knows that even before they walk into the room. Scorpius is too smart to hang around somewhere so obvious, unless he wanted to be found, and the letter he left made it quite clear that that's the last thing he wants. If he's in the school it's for a purpose, whatever that might be, and now they'll only find him if they figure out what he's doing. 

Minerva holds the door, and Draco strides through. He walks straight to Scorpius's bed and starts searching for any sign of life, any indication of what he might be up to. Beside him, Harry and Ginny are doing the same with Albus's bed. 

"Scorpius has been here," Draco says. The bed is neat, although it looks like the covers have been rumpled, like someone has thrown themselves on top of them, and the pillows are out of place like someone has hugged them. 

"Albus too," Ginny says, picking up a backpack that's been dumped on the floor beside Albus's bed. 

"He had that bag at the hospital," Draco says, glancing at it. "Does it have anything in it?" 

"I think some of his things are gone," Harry adds, riffling through Albus's wardrobe. "Look, his favourite jumper is missing... all these empty hangers. They've gone somewhere." 

Ginny dumps the contents of Albus's backpack onto the bed and starts sifting through it. "School books... sweets... parchment... these are all essays. I can't see any notes about where he might be going, or... Wait! There's a letter. From Scorpius." 

Harry runs to her side to peer over her shoulder as she reads. "Dear Albus, I've got the rest of the Potions we need, and I think everything's ready here. Don't forget to pack the Map, the Cloak, and your recipe. I wouldn't say no to a few Pepper Imps either... I think we should leave whenever Dad goes to get dinner on Friday night. Then we know we'll have some time to get going before he realises we've left..." She trails off and looks up at Draco. "How long have they been planning this?" 

Draco sinks onto the bed, shaking his head. "I didn't notice anything. I never saw them discussing any of this. I don't understand how they've done it." He clenches his fists and stares out at the murky waters of the lake beyond the window. All his efforts to protect Scorpius have been in vain. Any connection they've built up over the past few years hasn't been enough for Scorpius to talk to him, to confide in him, or for him to have noticed something going on, to know where Scorpius might be. Draco has never felt more like a failure of a father. 

He runs a hand over his face and closes his eyes. "There is _nothing_ we can do," he murmurs. "At least last time we had something useful. They contacted us. They wanted our help. But this time..." 

He hears Albus's bed squeak, and glances up to see Harry sitting opposite him, full of that perpetual, infuriating, unshakeable determination that always seems to be flowing out of him. "I'll send out a team of Aurors," he says. "We'll search the entire country if we have to. Albus hates Apparating, and Scorpius is ill. They can't go far, and we'll catch up to them. We'll find them. And then we'll bring them home where they can be safe." 

"How fast can your Aurors work?" Draco asks. 

"Fast enough," Harry says, getting to his feet. "I'll go now. Ginny, can you get something in the Prophet? We can do what we did last time, rally the troops." 

Ginny nods. "Of course. Although I don't know what I can do until the morning. All the papers will have been put to bed by now. I'll Apparate to the office and ask."

"And I'll order a thorough search of the school," Minerva adds. "We can set up patrols, make sure if they enter or leave, we spot them. We can cover all the fireplaces too." 

"There are secret entrances too," Harry says. "If they have the Map, they-"

"I am perfectly aware of the entrances, Potter. Don't you worry." 

"Of course," Harry says, nodding and pushing his glasses up his nose. "Sorry." 

Ginny walks across to Draco and lowers her voice. "If you want to wait with us, for any news... you'd be welcome. I'm sure being alone wouldn't be easy at the moment." 

Draco desperately wants to say no, to assert that he's fine on his own, that he's been managing for years, and that he'll continue to manage now. But the truth is, the idea of being alone in the big, empty Manor right now, facing the idea that Scorpius might never again fill it with noise and joy, feels like hell. It's the last place on earth he wants to be. 

He rises to his feet and brushes his robes down, determined to maintain at least some of his dignity, especially if he's going to accept their help like this. "Thank you," he says. "There are some things I need to pick up, but then... I'm sure you'll both be first to receive any news. It makes sense." He looks around at them all. "I appreciate your assistance." 

Harry nods and claps his hands together, already striding to the dormitory door, buzzing with action and adrenaline. "Let's get down to business then." 

 

Scorpius is shaking. Albus can feel him trembling as the three of them scramble through the entrance and up into the Chamber. It's difficult to tell if it's from fear, or the cold, or excitement because of where they are. It might be all three at once, and Albus squeezes his hand tightly, just in case it helps. 

Rose walks ahead, steady and purposeful, glancing up at the towering stone pillars that rise into the darkness above them. Albus raises his wand, to try and cast some light upwards, but even then he can't see the ceiling. This place is enormous. 

He extinguishes his wand after that, because there isn't as much need for it in here as there was in the tunnel outside. The whole room glows with a green light of its own, the same sort of watery light that floods the Slytherin Common Room, but with a slightly more sinister feel, thanks to the shadows that swirl and lurk in every corner and at the base of every pillar. 

"I can't believe we're here," Scorpius whispers, gazing around in wonder. "We're in Slytherin's Chamber. This is history, Albus. This place was built before my family even came to this country. And we've been here _forever_. Isn't it exciting?"

Albus flashes him a grin. He can't help it. Scorpius's enthusiasm is infectious. "A little bit." 

Scorpius swings their hands back and forth, bouncing along the walkway between the vast columns, and Albus is certain that this place has never seen anything like it before. Scorpius is too vibrant for a place like this. But here he is, excitable, bouncy, and filling the Chamber with life. 

"You know," Scorpius says, "this is almost amazing enough to make me glad I'm ill. We never would have come down here otherwise." 

Albus shakes his head, tone deadly serious. "I'm not glad. Even a little bit."

Scorpius glances at him. "Okay... maybe I'm not really glad either... but you have to admit it's cool." 

Albus looks around, at the towering pillars, at the snakes carved into the stonework, at the distant face of Salazar Slytherin, looming out of the shadows. His dad fought Tom Riddle down here; destroyed a Horcrux down here; saved his mum's life down here. This place is full of history, his family's history, as well as proper, ancient history. And Scorpius is right. It is interesting to be here. Albus just wishes it was under better circumstances. 

He nods and meets Scorpius's eyes. "I can. We're some of the only people in the Wizarding World who've ever been down here." 

Scorpius's eyes widen with glee and he clasps Albus's hand. "You're right!" He gives a skip, then drops Albus's hand and hugs him. "Okay! I'm going to explore." He grins, pure sunshine in this darkest of places. "While we're here." 

Albus smiles and pats him on the arm. "Call me if you find anything exciting." 

"Oh, I will!" He leans across and kisses Albus once, lightly on the cheek, then turns and disappears off in the direction of the pillars.

Albus watches him go. There's a spring in his step, like he's delighted by the freedom of being out of hospital, but he isn't quite as buoyant as he might have been before he got sick. Although he looks fine, and anyone who didn't know him probably wouldn't notice that he's ill, Albus can see the signs of the disease taking its toll. He's thinner than before, more fragile. He hugs his jacket tightly round his body, and he's starting to shiver from the cold, even though it isn't really _that_ chilly down here, and his jacket is a thick winter one. 

Nevertheless, he's still Scorpius. He's still scrutinising everything with an intense curiosity. When he reaches the wall, he runs his fingers over something etched there, a little frown on his face. Albus guesses he's admiring some kind of historic carving, or maybe the marks left by the magic that built this place. Scorpius leans in close and peers at the wall, walking slowly, scanning the stonework. When he isn't touching the wall, he keeps his arms wound tight round his body, and he's pulled his jacket sleeves over his hands for warmth. 

A thought strikes Albus, and he strides after Scorpius down the dark walkway.

"Scorpius," he calls. 

Scorpius turns to look at him, frowning. "Yes?"

Albus draws his wand and waves it over Scorpius, murmuring the incantation he'd taught himself in second year when he'd kept getting cold in the draughty dormitory at night. He hasn't ever needed to use it on Scorpius before, because Scorpius has always been inexplicably immune to the cold. 

"What are you- oh." Scorpius's eyes close, and he shudders and relaxes as Albus's Warming Charm washes over his body. "Thank you," he breathes, slowly opening his eyes, still savouring the feeling. 

"You're welcome," Albus says, stuffing his wand away. "If you get cold again, let me know." 

Scorpius hugs himself and nods. "I promise. Especially if that's what you do about it." 

"Alright." Albus gestures over his shoulder. "I'm going to go and help Rose." 

Scorpius waves a hand at the wall. "I am going to continue examining this very interesting and historic wall." 

Albus grins. "You're a ginormous geek, you know that?" 

"You've told me many times." 

"Because I'm always astounded by just _how_ geeky you are." Albus blows him a kiss as he walks away to join Rose. 

She's already down at the end of the Chamber, crouched beside the huge, coiled ruin of the Basilisk's body, in front of the huge statue of Salazar Slytherin's face. It stares out at the room, lined and shadowed and intimidating. Albus can feel its eyes following him as he comes over and kneels beside her. 

"I can't believe that's the guy who founded my house," he mutters, keeping his voice low. It's stupid, but he can't shake the feeling that the statue is somehow listening to them. 

Rose glances up at the statue. "He's just a little bit creepy," she says. "And slightly self-obsessed. Gryffindor didn't build any statues of his own face." 

Albus smiles. "How do you know? Maybe there's a secret Chamber of Gryffindor around here somewhere, full of all these beautifully carved statues of him. Maybe he loved to carve himself naked, like the ancient Greeks." 

Rose tuts and shakes her head. "You're ridiculous. You've been spending too much time with that boy." She nods in the direction of Scorpius, who's now walking along the wall of the Chamber, inspecting every inch of stonework. "He's rubbing off on you. In the intellectual sense of the phrase, not just the physical." 

Albus ignores her. "How many teeth do we need? Are there enough left?" 

"My parents did a good job of cleaning them out... but I think there are just enough." She pulls the scrap of parchment with her copy of the Moramortia recipe from her pocket and smooths it out. "We need seven teeth. I think we can do it if we're careful. Here, will you help me? They're really solid." 

Albus nods and leans forward, taking hold of one of the enormous teeth and assessing how loose it is. He can feel Rose's eyes on him, but he doesn't look up. He has to concentrate. These teeth are sharp, and the pointed ends are still poisonous. One slip and he'd be a goner. 

"I haven't," he murmurs, after several seconds of awkward silence. "Spent too much time with him. I feel like I've barely seen him in months." He tugs on the fang, trying to wrench it out of its socket, but his fingers slip, and he pauses to wipe them on his t-shirt before he tries again. "I don't care about all the dates we've missed out on. I just..." He swallows. "I'd just like my best friend back." He wraps his fingers round the fang and gives it another hard tug. This time it tears out at the root, and he goes sprawling backwards onto the wet ground. 

"What happens if all this doesn't work?" Rose asks, tone forcedly light, like she's talking about the weather instead of Scorpius's possible death. 

Albus doesn't look at her. He picks himself up off the ground, sets the tooth aside, and goes back to the Basilisk. Planting one hand against the snake's jaw, he tugs on the next tooth. "That... isn't... an option... I'm going to consider." 

"But-" 

"No." He twists his fingers round the fang, trying to wriggle it loose. "This is going to work. It needs to work. I need him. His _dad_ needs him. Maybe the whole world needs him. He's already saved it twice." 

Rose shrugs and runs her fingers over the smooth, green scales of the Basilisk's head. "Sometimes people who deserve to live don't, though. Remember Cedric-"

"How could I forget Cedric?" Albus mutters, shifting the tooth back and forward. 

"And Craig," Rose adds. "Even Scorpius's mum, and your grandparents, and-"

"Will you stop?" Albus bursts out, unable to contain it anymore. His words echo through the chamber, every stone surface mocking him, imitating his overwrought, breaking voice. He takes a deep, steadying breath and glances over his shoulder, to see Scorpius looking at him. He bows his head and turns away, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I-I know he might... you know. I know people die all the time. But I don't _want_ him to. I don't want to even think about it." 

"Albus..." Rose whispers, and when Albus looks up at her, he sees her eyes sparkling with tears. "No," she says, shaking her head and looking away, wiping the corner of one eye. "No, I know." She wriggles uncomfortably, looking down at her hands for a moment, then she looks up at him. "Can I give you a hug?" 

He looks back at her. "You never hug me." 

"Well," she sniffs and gives a little shrug. "Maybe it's time I started." She shuffles forward, then leans over the top of the Basilisk, and wraps her arms round Albus's neck. He leans against her and pats her on the back. When they part, she continues trying to surreptitiously wipe her eyes, while Albus goes back to the teeth. 

"Can you help me with this one?" He asks after a moment. "It's really stuck." 

"Sure!" Rose says, suddenly bright and cheerful. 

They work on the teeth for several minutes, neither of them saying much except for what they need to. A couple of the fangs have turned brittle over the years, and snap clean in half as they try to pull them out, or just crumble into dust under their touch. Albus is as gentle and careful as he can be with the ones they do get out. There are only just enough, and if they break any of them, this could be over before it's begun. 

They've just freed the last tooth, and Albus is carefully wrapping them up and stowing them in his bag, when Scorpius's voice comes echoing out of a passageway to one side of the Chamber. 

"Albus! Rose! Come and look at this!" 

The two of them glance at each other, and Rose sighs. 

"Give the fangs to me. I'll sort them out. You go and entertain him."'

Albus grins. "He's like a puppy that's just been let out for its first walk." 

"I just hope you have the energy to keep up with him," Rose says, taking the bag and the fangs from Albus. 

"I don't," Albus says, as he gets to his feet and sets off in the direction of Scorpius's voice. 

The knees of his jeans, as well as being all wet, are now slimy from kneeling on the ground. Albus's hands are streaked with grime. He tries to clean some of the muck off his hands and clothes as he walks, but he doesn't make any headway. 

The passage Scorpius is standing in is essentially just a large stone pipe. It's bigger than the slide they'd come down from Myrtle's bathroom, and Albus can't help but think that this is what sewers must be like. Thankfully it doesn't smell like a sewer; only looks like one. 

The sides and bottom of the pipe are smooth, like something big has ground them down by sliding through them repeatedly over the course of centuries, and they're so slick with water that Albus has to keep one hand on the wall to stop himself sliding around. 

"What is it?" He asks, when he's close enough to see Scorpius through the gloom. 

"I don't know," Scorpius replies. "But it feels cold right here, and I can hear whispering. I can't tell if I'm imagining it. It's really creepy down here; maybe paranoia has got the better of me. Maybe this is a new stage of my illness." He grins.

"Don't joke about that," Albus scolds as he slithers closer, and Scorpius looks suitably admonished. 

When Albus reaches Scorpius he frowns and slows down, trying to make his footsteps as quiet as possible while he listeners hard for any of these whispers Scorpius claims to be able to hear.

He certainly thinks he can hear something as he steps past Scorpius and further into the pipe. It's a bit like the wind, although there's no breeze down here. Maybe Slytherin enjoyed the sound of summer wind rustling through reeds so much that he conjured up the sound in his secret chamber. 

It takes a few seconds to realise that it's not the wind he's hearing. Not leaves or fronds or blades of grass. It's a voice. A whispering voice. And as he closes his eyes, he can make out the words it's saying. 

" _Haaarry Pottttter..._ "

He stops dead in his tracks, just a step too far. 

A wind picks up from nowhere around him, wrapping him up in a swirling, icy vortex. When he tries to run, because this feels like something he really needs to run from, it's too strong, buffeting him back into place, whirling around him so he's stuck on the spot. It rips through his hair, tears at his clothes, and he's scared he's going to be swept away to somewhere, who knows where, as he fights to stay upright with his feet on the ground. 

"Scorpius!" He shouts over the noise of the storm. "What's happening?" 

"I don't know!" Scorpius replies, panicked and high-pitched. He rushes at the tornado, but it throws him back, sending him sprawling and slipping away down the pipe. "I can't do anything!" He yells. "Albus, I can't-"

Albus leans his whole body into the wind, struggling to push through but it knocks him sideways and he reels in a circle. 

He's still off balance when a loud crack of thunder bursts through the Chamber. It rings in Albus's ears with such force that he feels dazed, and he falls onto the ground, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, hands pressed to the sides of his head. The thunder rumbles to a pounding crescendo, and there's nothing in the world beside that terrible, ominous roar. 

Suddenly, a blue-white flash of light explodes, bright enough that it even illuminates the darkness behind his eyelids. The thunder fades to a buzzing crackle, the wind dies down, and he opens his eyes to see that he's surrounded by an impenetrable net of bright blue electricity, which sparks and fizzles on every side. 

It takes him only a fraction of a second to realise that he's trapped. 

 

Scorpius stares in horror. Albus is turning in circles in the middle of the electric cage, looking at the walls around him. Bright blue sparks make his face flicker in and out of shadow. He looks pale and scared. Albus looks scared so rarely that when he does it's the most awful thing in the world. The way he's looking right now sends a chill running through Scorpius's whole body. 

"Albus," he says, stepping as close as he can to the cage. It hisses and sparks at him, like his presence is making it angry, so he dodges back a step. "Albus, can you-"

"Get out?" Albus shrugs and surveys the crackling barrier. His green eyes flash briefly bright blue. "I can try I suppose." He's about to take a step forward when running footsteps down the pipe behind Scorpius make him pause. 

Rose comes sprinting along, Albus's bag bouncing on her back. "I heard yelling," she gasps. "What's- oh Merlin. I can't leave you two alone for a second!" 

"We didn't ask for him to get trapped in a lightning cage," Scorpius replies, indignant. 

"Is that what this is?" Rose asks. "Is he really trapped?" 

"Don't sound so excited," Albus shoots at her. "Anyway, I was just about to find out if I can get out when you arrived."

"Find out what?" Rose asks.

"If I can get out," Albus replies. "Stand back."

Rose's eyes widen as she realises what he's about to do. "Albus, don't. This is a really bad idea. What happens if you-" 

Albus walks into the wall of lightning. 

The Chamber explodes with noise, bouncing and echoing off every wall, amplified a hundred times over so it crashes relentlessly against Scorpius's ears. There's a huge flash of silvery blue light, blinding, making Scorpius's vision turn white for a second, then fading to a dazzling burst of stars. Electric energy rakes through air, and Scorpius's hair stands on end. 

When Scorpius has finally blinked the stars from his vision, he sees Albus's body lying crumpled on the floor. An unmoving heap of messy hair and grime spattered clothes. A scream rips itself from Scorpius's throat.

He dashes as close to the cage as he dares and throws himself onto the damp ground beside it, trying to spot any sign that Albus is alive. He wants to get closer, inside the cage _with_ Albus, but that would probably be suicidal. One unconscious person is more than enough. 

Rose kneels beside him. "Is he alive? Is he breathing? Scorpius, we need to get him out of there! There must be a spell. A counter-curse. Something!" 

Scorpius shakes his head, frantic. "I don't know! I don't know." He shuffles closer, on all fours, staring desperately through the barrier. "Albus? Can you hear me? Albus, please. Say something. Come on." Tears blur his vision, and he flattens himself to the ground, creeping even closer to the edge of the cage. With trembling fingers he draws his wand and points it at Albus's unconscious form. "Come on," he whispers, pleading. "Rennervate. Wake up. Please. I need you." 

The whole world is such a haze behind the tears that he almost doesn't see Albus move. For a brief moment he wonders if it's his imagination, or wishful thinking. But then Rose shrieks and grabs his arm, shaking him hard.

"Scorpius! He's alive!" She throws herself onto the ground beside Scorpius and reaches a hand out to her cousin. "Albus, are you okay?" 

There's a very soft groan, and Albus rolls onto his back. "Ow," he says. Slowly, like every movement aches, he begins to peel himself off the floor. He pushes himself into a sitting position and rubs his forehead, then runs a hand through his hair to flatten it out. Finally he looks at Scorpius and Rose, and points a shaking hand at the barrier. "Don't touch that thing. It's dangerous." 

Scorpius gives a desperate little sob and collapses with relief, burying his face in his hands. Rose rubs his back, and Scorpius can hear the sarcasm dripping in her voice when she speaks. 

"No, Albus. We really hadn't noticed." 

Albus's laugh is soft and trembling. He still sounds like he's in shock. "I-I'm okay," he says. "But it's a definite no to getting out. I think I'm really stuck here." 

Scorpius drags himself together. Albus is trapped and in danger; crying isn't going to help anyone. "Well," he sniffs. "We can't just leave you here." He wipes his eyes, takes a shuddering breath, and pushes himself up into a sitting position. He feels exhausted and weak, like he might just collapse back onto the floor again, but he ignores that and persuades his shaking legs to let him stand up, keeping a hand on the wall for support. 

"There must be a spell or something," he says. "A trigger. Some kind of magic we can dismantle?" He starts pacing slowly around the edge of the cage, keeping a safe distance from the walls. He holds his wand out in front of him, trying to sense anything in the air, but there's nothing. 

"What triggered it?" Rose asks, also getting to her feet and drawing her wand. 

Albus shakes his head. "I was just walking... the air felt cold, and then... there was this hissing. I thought it was the wind, but then I heard my dad's name." 

Rose frowns. "You _dad's_ name? I suppose he has been here before." 

"What if it was Voldemort?" Albus asks, glancing at her. "Maybe Tom Riddle set up traps or something. If they weren't triggered, they could have been here for years. And if the magic was powerful... I remember Flitwick saying something about how magic can last for ages if it's strong enough."

"Can you create spells that are triggered by a certain person?" Rose muses. "If it was waiting for Harry, then maybe it thought-"

Albus sighs. "I'm nothing like my dad, remember?" 

"But you might be just enough like him for the magic," Rose says, sounding just like her mother. 

"Okay," Scorpius says, waving a hand in frustration. "These are all fantastic theories, but it doesn't help us actually free Albus. And I'd quite like to do that, because it's freezing down here, and the idea of my boyfriend being trapped in a lightning cage forever isn't very pleasant." He doesn't mean to sound as stressed as he does, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He finishes his circle round the cage and sighs. "I can't feel anything. There's nothing." 

"I wonder..." Rose says. She raises her wand and points it at the cage. "Bombarda!" 

The spell smashes into the wall, sending sparks flying everywhere. Scorpius gives a high-pitched yelp and slithers backwards, as Albus dives onto the ground, covering his head with his arms. 

"Reducto," Rose continues, slashing her wand through the air. "Stupefy. Confringo. Expulso. Finite Incantatem." A string of explosions burst through the Chamber, along with the sound of crackling electricity, Rose's voice; the hiss of sparks against stone. It takes a minute before it fades, but finally silence falls again. 

"Are you done now?" Scorpius asks, unscrewing his face and removing his hands from his ears. 

Rose puts her wand away and gives him a sweet smile. "Yes, thanks." 

Albus uncurls himself from the floor and looks up. "It didn't work, though. I'm still stuck." He gets up and gives a heavy sigh. "I'm never going to get out." 

"Don't be so defeatist!" Rose says brightly. "We'll think of something." 

"Oh, I'm sure," Albus replies, full of sarcasm. "Because three teenagers can obviously outwit one of the greatest wizards of all time." 

"Our parents did it plenty of times!" Rose crosses her arms and glares into space, like she's trying to spot something in thin air. "We just need to think." 

"I've always been terrible at thinking," Albus mutters sullenly. 

All the arguing is making Scorpius's head ache, so he leaves them to it and wanders back into the main chamber. He can't think with them sniping at each other, their echoing voices ringing round and round inside his head. Even if he can still hear them, it's a lot quieter out here. 

He walks along one of the walls, head bowed, feet splashing through pools of water, fingers trailing across the slimy rock. Normally it's Albus who comes up with the ideas for how to wriggle out of this sort of thing. He's always been far better at thinking on his feet. But if he's trapped inside the cage and magic won't work to break it, then what are they supposed to do? Albus hasn't tried attacking it from the inside, but what if the cage attacks back? 

Scorpius runs a hand over his face and leans his shoulder against the wall for support. He's already exhausted, and he certainly doesn't have the energy for this. 

He suspects the trap is a good one, utterly impenetrable. He's been reading Albus's Defence Against The Dark Arts notes, all about traps and ambushes, and usually there's some kind of catch or release spell somewhere, but you're supposed to be able to feel it, and there was nothing there. Maybe whoever set this trap was planning to let anyone caught inside stay there until they died. But that's not an option here. 

His fingers brush over a bit of rough stonework as he walks, and he glances sideways at it. There are words there. More words. The walls of this Chamber seem to be covered with carved words like this one. They were on the other side too, all jumbled up and nonsensical. This one here... He peers at it. This one says 'aid'. 

If there's one thing they need right now it's aid. Any tiny bit of help would be amazing. But Salazar Slytherin is not Godric Gryffindor. He doesn't send handy swords to his students in their times of need. They're supposed to succeed on their own. That's just how it works. The best Slytherin gave them was a dirty great murderous snake, and the odd fabled artefact that no one has ever seen and that is probably just complete fiction. 

He gazes up at the wall, at the roughly chiselled letters in the stonework, and he presses his palm flat against it, offering a silent prayer to his mum. For strength, for courage, for anything she can give. Slytherin might not help them, but she will. 

It's gone very quiet in the Chamber now. Suspiciously quiet. No more echoing voices, which means Albus and Rose must have stopped arguing. In fact, they might have stopped talking at all. 

Curious, Scorpius turns and starts walking back into the pipe where Albus is trapped, keeping his eyes out for any more words. He only spots one as he goes, right in the corner of the room, carved high on the wall. 'Pure-blood'. That's no help or comfort at all. Scorpius shudders and keeps walking. 

He slides and slithers his way down the pipe to where Albus is trapped. When he arrives, Rose is nowhere to be seen, and Albus is standing in the middle of the cage with his wand out. He's making sweeping motions across the walls, and the ground beneath his feet, and he's muttering to himself under his breath. 

"Are there any breaks?" Scorpius asks, feet slipping beneath him as he stops, so he has to hold the wall to keep from falling. 

Albus shakes his head grimly. "Not yet. Whoever made this thing did a really good job." He runs a hand through his hair. "Rose is along the pipe, by the way. I don't know what she's doing, but I'm sure it won't be safe." 

"Great," Scorpius groans. "I'll go and rescue her before _she_ gets trapped too." 

Albus nods vaguely and waves his wand across the ground. "I can't even dig my way out. This thing is a perfect sphere." 

"Keep going," Scorpius says. "We will get you out. I need you to-" 

A sudden wave of weakness sweeps through his body, and he stumbles against the wall as his knees give out. He clutches the stones, fingers scrabbling to keep him upright, and he holds on for several seconds once it passes, eyes closed. Once it's gone he looks up at Albus, hoping he looks determined and focused even though the world is spinning around him. "I need you to get out." 

Albus takes a step toward him, expression full of concern. "Scorpius... are you okay?" 

"Fine," Scorpius lies, pushing a smile onto his face. "I'm going to find Rose." Although his legs feels like jelly, he manages not to fall as he walks along the pipe, acutely aware of Albus's eyes on his back.

He follows the pipe round a couple of bends, and is relieved to find it sloping upwards, so it becomes less slippery as he goes. After a minute or so of walking he emerges in a low-ceilinged antechamber. It's just a stone box really, dimly lit, with three pipes leading into it, one each from three of the walls. The fourth wall is flat and featureless, although it emits a faint, green glow. The glow spreads through the room, but not far enough to chase out the shadows that lurk in every corner.

Scorpius shivers and walks across to Rose, who is leaning against the wall and tapping it with her wand. She glances up as he approaches. 

"This wall feels weird," she says.

Scorpius shrugs. "Maybe loads of spikes come out of it when a Gryffindor is nearby," he says. He's exhausted and irritable and cold, and he just wants to get Albus back and get out of here. The novelty of this place is wearing off fast. This was supposed to be one of the easy bits of the adventure. 

"Funny," Rose says, apparently oblivious to his dull tone. "Come here. Maybe it'll like you! You're a Slytherin, and a Malfoy." 

"Why does that have anything to do with it?" He asks, tucking his hands into the ends of his sleeves. It's the most stupid question he's ever asked in his life and he knows it, but he doesn't have the energy to care. 

Rose doesn't even bother giving him a hard look, she just beckons impatiently at him. "I want Albus out of there as much as you do. And I'm sure if this wall were going to attack us, it would have done it before you arrived." 

"Alright then," Scorpius says. He wanders up to the wall and stares at it. "It looks like a normal wall, apart from the glowing." 

"There must be something _making_ it glow though. Some spell, an enchantment. It has to be here for a-"

Scorpius taps his wand against the wall. "Specialis Revelio." 

He doesn't expect anything to happen. He assumes Rose has already tried that, and will start telling him off for being useless any second now. But he's wrong on both counts. The effect is immediate. The both jump back, Scorpius grabbing Rose's arm, as blazing letters etch themselves across the wall, like molten silver pouring down from the ceiling into an invisible mound. High, and broad, and bright, filling the room with light. 

"Okay," Rose says breathlessly. "That was not what I expected to happen." 

"Not entirely," Scorpius agrees, high pitched with surprise. He's still gripping Rose's wrist, and his heart is pounding. 

Rose gentle pats his hand. "Scorpius, you're cutting off my blood supply." 

Scorpius releases her and holds his hands up in apology. "Sorry!" He fiddles with the zipper on his hoodie to give his hands something to do instead, and stares up at the letters on the wall. 

"'Welcome, son of Slytherin'," he reads aloud. 

Rose wrinkles her nose. "Son? That's a bit sexist." 

Scorpius glances at her. "Somehow I don't think Slytherin was the most liberal of people." 

"No," she agrees. "Look at this next bit. 'Accept my aid in defence of our blood.'" She looks at Scorpius. " _Our_ blood. I think my dad would call this guy a git."

Scorpius nods and bounces anxiously on his toes. "I think your dad would be right... I don't like this. What if there's another trap, or... I don't know. What if this place tries to hurt you?" 

Rose sighs softly and pats Scorpius on the arm. "There's no magic that can tell the difference between the two of us, if that's what you're worried about. There _isn't_ a difference. Pure blood is just a stupid concept people made up to make themselves feel superior. Nothing's going to hurt me, okay?" 

Scorpius looks into her eyes, deep brown, warm, and bright with the sort of self-confidence that he can't help but be convinced by. "Okay," he murmurs. 

She smiles and nudges him. "Good." She catches hold of his hand and pulls him round. "Look at this." She points to a glistening silver thread of light. It's trickling out of the bottom of the final letter on the wall, and it wraps round the corner into one of the pipes. Scorpius can see it disappearing off into the darkness, its reflection sparkling in the pools of water on the floor. 

"I think we're supposed to go that way," she says. 

Scorpius eyes the distant darkness. "Is this going to help us free Albus?"

Rose shrugs. "Maybe the Chamber is going to give us a weapon or a tool or something. It talks about aid. Maybe we're going to get something we can use to destroy that lightning cage." She looks at him. "Aren't you a little bit intrigued? It's not like we have a better option." 

Scorpius thinks for several long seconds. In this situation, what would Albus do? If this were the other way around? He'd probably go chasing off into the darkness in search some mysterious source of help. The spontaneous, wild, unpredictable option. 

"Let's do it," he says finally. 

Rose beams and squeezes his hand. 

They follow the passage together in silence, following the silver thread as it continues to guide them, winding sinuously away into the darkness up ahead. Aside from the sound of their footsteps sploshing through the occasional puddle, it's very quiet in the tunnel. The silence is so complete that Scorpius can hear his heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his ears, the gasp of cold air that feels too sharp in his throat. Albus's warming spell is still wound around him, and Rose's grip is keeping the frigid air away from his fingers. He's grateful to both of them. He's shivering enough from worry and tiredness, without feeling the cold too. 

They've probably only been walking for a minute or two, but to Scorpius it feels like forever. There's only darkness ahead and behind, and the thin ribbon of light to guide them. Then the pipe opens up, and they step out into the familiar open space of the main chamber. 

For a moment, Scorpius feels disappointed. They've been here already. This isn't going to offer them anything new or helpful. All they've done is go round in a circle. But then he realises the room has changed from how it looked before.

Now, the eerie green glow of light is suffused with the same silver that had illuminated their path from the antechamber. It emanates from the very walls, from the words that Scorpius had seen before, which are now inscribed with molten silver, so they're visible from every corner of the room.

_Aid. Pure-blood. Need. Claim. Sacrifice._ So many words. A glittering, nonsensical jumble of them. 

"Okay..." Scorpius says, frowning. "So we have to..." 

"Put them in order and work out what it says," Rose says, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Scorpius nods. "Can I borrow Albus's bag for a second?" 

She gives him a very long look, then slides it off her back and hands it to him. "Why?" 

He doesn't answer, just unzips the bag and rummages through it until he finds a sheet of parchment and a quill. He pulls them out with a flourish. "Ta-da." 

Rose stares at him. "Why do you have parchment with you? I'm just going to assume Albus didn't pack those." 

"Nope," Scorpius says happily. "I did. Because I thought I might have some time to do homework, or..." He trails off under Rose's incredulous expression. "You never know when it might come in handy!" He says, defensive. "And aren't you glad I have it? We can write down options." He gestures at the words, rests the parchment on his knee, and starts scribbling down the words.

There are eleven of them, scattered around the walls of the Chamber, and as he notes them down his mind is already racing fast. Two of the words start with capitals, so they're probably the start of sentences. Two more are followed by full stops, so they must go at the ends. Between them are seven others that could go anywhere. 

When he finishes writing, Rose peers over his shoulder and frowns down at the parchment. 

"Look," she mutters. "This only makes sense a few ways round. Pure-blood prove your... then what? Name? Sacrifice? Need makes most sense, I think. I can't see what else fits there." 

Scorpius nods and starts muttering too, crossing out and scribbling and rearranging. Rose keeps pointing out combinations and switching them around, and it only takes a couple of minutes before they've come up with two satisfactory sentences. 

Scorpius straightens up. "Pure-blood prove your need," he reads. 

"Claim this aid by name and sacrifice," Rose finishes, looking straight at Scorpius. "What does that mean? Sacrifice... do we have to give something to the Chamber? And name..." 

Scorpius's heart sinks as he reads the words over again and begins to understand. "I think..." he swallows. "I think it means surname." He looks up at her. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight." His words come out more bitter and mocking than he means them to, and he starts rolling one corner of the parchment up into a tight curl. 

"Are you surprised?" Rose asks. "Anyway, we're fine. You're a Malfoy _and_ a Greengrass." 

"What about sacrifice?" Scorpius asks. He looks around the room, searching for a prompt of some sort, as though the dungeon might give them a handy pointer, like a big flashing arrow showing them where to go next. But there are only the words and the gloom. 

"Maybe it wants us to hurt someone," Rose says with a shrug. "That's a very pure-blood supremacist thing to do, right?"

Scorpius gives a small, reluctant mumble of agreement. "I don't..." he hesitates. "I don't think it means just hurting someone though. I mean... Muggles and Muggleborns are just dispensable to people like that. And a sacrifice..." he shuffles his feet awkwardly. "A sacrifice is something valuable. Something you can't live without." 

"So?" 

"So... I-I think I have to do something." He pauses for a brief second, then rushes on, before she can interrupt. "Anyway. The only people down here are me, you, and Albus, and I'm not letting anything happen to either of you, so I think this needs to be me."

"This needs to be..." Rose reaches out suddenly and grabs hold of Scorpius's hand. "Scorpius Malfoy, if you're about to do something stupid- Albus will kill you."

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him," he says, wrenching his arm away. He screws the parchment in his hand up into a little ball and shoves it into his pocket. "I don't suppose you have a knife?" 

"A knife!" Rose's voice rises hysterically, bouncing off the walls of the Chamber. 

Scorpius winces. "When I said Albus doesn't need to know..." 

Rose lowers her voice to a hiss. "I think Albus would want to know you're doing something with a knife. Is this going to hurt you? Because if it is, I don't think-" 

Scorpius steps very close to her, flooded with a new determination and confidence. "Rose, I'm a wizard. I want to be a Healer. I'm going to be fine." 

"You know that isn't exactly that reassuring?" 

Scorpius grins and pats her on the shoulder. "Don't worry." 

He kneels down and rummages through Albus's bag. Objects present themselves to him one by one. The canvas of a tent, the soft wool of a jumper, a smooth glass vial. There has to be something in here. Albus packed this bag. There's no way he came without his Potions kit. There must be at least one knife in here somewhere. He draws his wand and sticks it into the bag. "Accio knife." In an instant he feels the cool, carved wood handle of a knife press into his right hand. 

He pulls it out of the bag and holds it up. It's one of Albus's favourites. A bright, long silver blade, that he swears is perfect for crushing beans and berries. The wooden handle is decorated with beautiful, carved curlicues. It feels good in Scorpius's hand, well balanced, solid. This is what he needs. 

He puts his wand away, transfers the knife to his left hand, and looks up at Rose. "I really hope this works." 

"You're really going to give the Chamber some of your blood?" She asks, nose wrinkled. 

Scorpius nods. "That's exactly what I'm going to do." 

"But you're ill," Rose says, folding her arms. "You're going to hurt yourself, make yourself weaker, and there's no reason. This place doesn't know who you are. It doesn't know who I am. I can do this instead."

Scorpius tightens his grip on the knife. "No. I won't let you. We're only here because of me, and I'm going to get us out of this mess."

She glares at him, shoulders squared and defiant, but he glares back. Unrelenting. 

She shakes her head. 

"When did you get so stubborn?" 

"I've been spending too much time with Albus," he says. "Wish me luck." He flips the knife over and turns to face the huge statue of Salazar Slytherin. 

He walks to the middle of the Chamber, so he's standing right in front of it, and he gazes up into the imposing face. Slytherin's eyes are deep in shadow, and the lines on his face are dark. He looks ancient and wise, but so forbidding that Scorpius almost doesn't want to address him. It's stupid, because this is just a statue, but there's something about the swirling green light, how impenetrable the gaze is, the perpetual solidity of the marble. Clearly he wanted to make an impression, and Scorpius has no doubt that he's succeeded.

He stands before the founder of his house and takes a deep breath. "Salazar Slytherin. I-I am..." his voice is shaking, and he knows that he sounds weak and unconvincing. His words get swallowed up in the vastness of the space, and he just knows that this isn't good enough. He'd supposed to be strong and authoritative. 

He forces himself to stand up straighter. Sometimes, when he's feeling afraid or vulnerable, he thinks about how he'd had to be in that other world. How he'd had to act to convince everyone that he was the Scorpion King. There was a confident superiority to him then, and at times he'd almost believed it himself, and he knows that if he embodies that now, then he can definitely do this. 

He screws his right hand into a fist, digging his fingernails into his palms, and he meets Slytherin's awful, lifeless gaze. His fingers tighten around the handle of the knife. When he speaks his voice is unwavering. 

"I am Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, a loyal student of your house. My father is Draco Malfoy. My mother is Astoria Malfoy, born Greengrass. My blood- my blood is pure." 

He pauses, trying not to think too much about what he's saying and doing. He lifts his right hand up in front of him and runs the knife across his palm. He winces at the sting as it bites into his skin. It leaves a thin red line, that immediately begins to well with blood, and he turns his hand over, letting it drop down onto the wet stone floor. 

"Accept this offering," he continues, "as proof of our great need. And um. Help us. Please?" 

The ending sounds utterly unconvincing, full of terror, but Scorpius can only pray that the rest of it worked. If it didn't, he has no idea what to do next. 

His blood, instead of mingling with the water, is hissing and steaming on the ground, like it's landed on something very hot, even though the floor is undoubtedly very cold.  For several long, tense moments, that's all that happens, and Scorpius begins to worry that that's it. That Slytherin has decided to abandon them. But then, quite suddenly, all the blood and water on the floor in a two-foot circle right in front of them disappears at once, leaving him and Rose staring at perfectly bare stone. 

He clenches his right hand as hot blood starts to dribble down the inside of his wrist, but he doesn't try to heal himself. He's too transfixed on that single spot on the floor, where something strange is now happening. 

A dark substance, almost black, is seeping out of the rock. It's thick, and Scorpius can't help but wonder if it's his own blood. It pools and congeals, coagulating into a wet mass that starts to build upwards into a shape like a hand. Scorpius recognises fingers forming, one by one, finishing with the thumb. The black shape wobbles as it builds, unstable, like jelly, but as the last drop of liquid oozes into place at the tip of the thumb, the whole thing changes. 

In the blink of an eye the texture shifts to metal. A hard, shining, armour-like metal. It's formed of tiny little plates, covering the wrist and fingers and back of the hand. Dark, emerald green, like the skin of the dead Basilisk whose body lies broken nearby. Underneath the scale there's a glove of soft, pale, almost silvery leather.

Scorpius's eyes widen. "It's a gauntlet," he breathes, awestruck. He takes two slow steps forward, then pauses. That thing was probably formed of congealed blood. His own blood. The idea of touching that black gloopy liquid that had poured out of the floor is a little bit off putting... But if this is what he thinks it is, then it might be helpful after all. 

"Okay," Rose says, snapping him back to reality. "What is that thing?" Her voice is full of disgust, and Scorpius glances up at her. 

"I-I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I think..." he glances up at her. "I think this might be the Gauntlet of Slytherin." 

There's a beat of silence, then Rose snorts. "The Gauntlet of Slytherin? That's not a real thing." 

"Well," Scorpius says, "it is supposed to be a myth. No one's ever seen it. But the story goes that when Gryffindor and Slytherin were fighting, one day Slytherin threw down his Gauntlet and challenged Gryffindor to a duel for dominance of the school. Gryffindor wanted to accept, to defend the students, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff persuaded him not to, that there was nothing to be gained, and that they should collectively abide by the notion that each house should be equal, and that no one founder would be in charge of the school. 

"When his challenge was rejected, Slytherin stormed from the school in anger, promising to seek vengeance. He left the Gauntlet, and this Chamber we're standing in, as a sign of his retribution. The Basilisk would purge the school of the unworthy, and the Gauntlet is supposed to be able to aid and protect a student of pure blood in their noble pursuit of killing Muggleborns." He gives Rose a grim little smile. "It's not a well-known myth. It's written about even less than the Chamber of Secrets. A lot of scholars decided it has no basis in fact. There's no evidence of it existing, but-" he gestures to the object on the floor. "Ta-da!" 

"Okay," Rose says. "Now I hate it even more." 

Scorpius's shoulders slump. "I know."

"Does it do anything useful at least?" Rose asks, kneeling down beside it and drawing her wand. She prods it with the tip, then skitters back a bit. Nothing happens. 

Scorpius kneels beside her. "I don't really know what it does. Since it's not even supposed to exist... There are rumours that it can soak up magic, that it was meant to be able to undo all the magic the other founders put in the school to protect the students who aren't pure-bloods. But really that's just wild speculation."

"If it does soak up magic though..." Rose muses, glancing at him. "Maybe it can destroy Albus's cage?" 

Scorpius nods. "Maybe. We could try to pass it to Albus and he could use it to protect himself from the lightning... or maybe we could touch the barrier from our side and try to get rid of the magic. I mean, it might not work, but it's something. It's a chance, isn't it?" 

Rose sighs. "As much as I hate to admit it..."

Scorpius examines the Gauntlet for a moment, before reaching out and running his fingers over the tough metal scales. They're slightly warm to touch, like they belong to a living, breathing creature. He takes a breath, uncertain of what to expect, and he picks the Gauntlet up. 

Rose takes a curious step closer, watching as he slides his fingers into the glove and wriggles them. It's a little too big, but already he can feel it tightening around his hand, locking into place around his wrist. Within seconds it fits as though it were made for him. He flexes his hand, trying to get used to the feeling, to the energy and warmth that's flowing through his fingers.

The longer the Gauntlet sits against Scorpius's skin the more certain he is that it will work. There's a sort of buzz to it. Like static. A simmering essence of power, just waiting to be unleashed. It's like holding a wand in a way, but more obtrusive. It doesn't feel like an extension of his own magic, but an odd addition. Something stuck on the end of his arm, that he could channel if he wanted to, but at the moment still feels slightly strange and unwieldy. 

"Do you think we should try it out?" 

"What if it doesn't work?" She asks. "Albus will kill me if I kill you." She takes hold of Scorpius's hand and examines the Gauntlet, inspecting every scale-like piece of metal, running her fingers over the leather, like she's trying to convince herself that it's robust enough to be trusted.

"It will," he says confidently, looking up at her. 

"What do you want me to do?" She asks, walking several feet away from him and raising her wand. 

Scorpius holds his hand out to her. "Hit me with a spell. Something that would normally hurt." 

She gives a little shrug and flicks her wand silently in his direction, lightning fast, almost too quick to see. Albus might have had a chance against it, but Scorpius certainly doesn't. Even if he'd tried to shield he wouldn't have managed it. But when the spell hits the palm of his hand, he feels no pain, just a surge of warmth before little shocks of energy crackle up his arm. It's not the most pleasant feeling in the world, but it's better than being cursed. 

Scorpius wiggles his fingers as the feeling subsides, and he grins. "It works!" 

"You didn't feel anything?" 

He shakes his head. "Just a little bit of a shock, but nothing else." He looks up at her. "Shall we see if it can help Albus?" 

She shrugs. "I don't see why not." 

Together they slither their way back down the pipe until they reach the glowing, crackling cage. Albus is sitting cross-legged on the floor, but he stands up as they approach. 

"Where have you been?" He asks. "I was worried something had happened to you." He takes a step forward and points to Scorpius's hands. "What are you wearing? Are you bleeding? What's been going on?" 

Scorpius holds his left hand up and wiggles his fingers in greeting. "This is the Gauntlet of Slytherin." 

"The what?" Albus asks. 

Scorpius walks up to the shield and holds his hand out for Albus to see more clearly. "It's a mythical artefact that Slytherin reputedly-" 

"I don't think this is the time for a history lesson," Rose says, exasperated. "We've been down here too long. There's no way your parents haven't noticed you're missing by now. I think it's about time we got out of here, and got you out of the castle." 

"Right," Scorpius says. He turns to Albus with renewed determination. "Maybe you should stand back. I don't know what this is going to do." 

He extends his hand cautiously towards the lightning wall as Albus dodges back a couple of paces. He expects crackling sparks to dance out to meet him, but they don't. In fact, the barrier does nothing at all. There's no reaction as Scorpius's metal and leather clad fingers slide by. His hand seems to warm up just a little, but there are none of the shocks of energy that seem to accompany the Gauntlet soaking up magic. In fact, by the time his hand has slid unharmed and ineffectually through the barrier all the way up to the wrist, he's beginning to think that something is really wrong. 

He stops and looks round at Rose. "Nothing is happening. It doesn't hurt, but... it's not doing anything." 

Rose frowns. "Do you think... maybe you have to be inside the trap?" 

"Inside the-" Scorpius stares at her incredulously. "Do you want me to die? This thing will fry me." 

Rose steps forward and reaches her own fingers toward the wall. It gives an ominous hiss. Albus's eyes widen, and Scorpius considers pulling his hand free to try and drag her away. But when she touches the crackling sheet of lightning, nothing happens. And when her fingers pass completely through, again she doesn't seem to be in any pain. In fact, she pulls her hand back and grins at the boys. 

"We can get in, but he can't get out! Clearly this whole trap is meant to keep someone contained, but let things from outside in." She looks at Albus. "Maybe Riddle was going to hold your dad in here and let the Basilisk eat him."

"So..." Scorpius surveys the glowing wall, watching sparks cascade and jump through it. "Do you think I maybe have to destroy it from the inside?" 

Rose nods. "I think that's exactly it." 

He swallows. "Okay... and what happens if it just fries me?" 

"It's not going to," Rose says. 

"I admire your confidence," Scorpius replies, sizing up the barrier. Finally he decides to get it over with. The quicker the better. Just like the wall at Platform 9 3/4. _Best to do it at a run if you're nervous._ Except this is worse, because at least the wall at the platform won't kill you if it decides it doesn't like you. 

He screws his eyes shut and pulls himself up tall, trying to inject some courage into himself. Then he strides forward, the whole time ready to scream in pain or fear, hands shaking because they're balled up so tightly out of terror. 

As he walks, a razor sharp edge of heat slides from his wrist, up his arm, and across his shoulder. He can feel it on his torso as he pushes on through the wall, not letting himself falter for a moment. He knows that if he stops now he'll never do this. It slides over his head, and finally he feels the electricity warming his other side. Then the sensation is gone completely and he opens his eyes to find himself inside the cage, with Albus standing directly in front of him. 

For a long moment he just stares at Albus, unable to believe his eyes. Then he flings himself across the gap between them and kisses Albus with all the passion and ferocity he can muster. 

Albus laughs with surprise and delight, and has to take a step back to steady them both. He holds tight to Scorpius, kissing back with equal passion before pulling away. He brushes a hand down Scorpius's cheek and smiles. "Hi."

"Hello," Scorpius replies before squeezing him in another hug. 

Albus rubs his back. "Now we're both trapped in here."

Scorpiis sighs and glances up at the glowing sphere that now arches over both their heads. "I know. We didn't really think this one through, did we? Rose, if this doesn't work you're going to have to save both of us." 

She tuts. "I know. So this had better work." 

Scorpius nods and turns to Albus. "How are we going to do this? I think the best thing to do would be to trigger it, and drain the energy from that. I think maybe I should trigger it, and then-"

"No," Albus says firmly. "This whole adventure is about saving your life. I don't want you in more danger. I'll trigger it, and then you can do whatever it is you're planning to do. What _are_ you planning to do by the way?" 

"I'm really not sure yet," Scorpius says, feeling that perhaps honesty isn't the best policy in this instance. But he's never been able to lie to Albus. 

"Okay. So if you don't have a plan- I'm not letting you near that thing. It really hurts, Scorpius." 

"I know, which is why I'm going to be the one setting it off." Scorpius brushes him aside and turns to face the barrier. 

Albus nudges him out of the way. "You're already ill. At least I'm healthy. I have some chance of recovering." 

"No," Scorpius says firmly, jostling Albus with his shoulder.

"Yes," Albus replies, pushing past him again. 

"No." Scorpius shifts in front of Albus. 

"Yes!" As Albus tries to shove past Scorpius again, it happens. 

There's not much room for manoeuvre in the cage with two of them, and as Albus dodges past Scorpius's shoulder, one of his hands brushes the wall. Scorpius sees it happen, hears the crack and sizzle of electricity beginning to build, and he reacts instinctively, too fast for thought.

He grabs hold of Albus's arm with his right hand and pulls him out of the way, ignoring the burning pain in his cut palm. Then he dives past, left hand outstretched, and throws his body between Albus and the lightning strike. 

He expects to feel white hot pain coursing through him, and he braces for it, but it doesn't come. Instead he feels his left hand becomes incredibly warm; he feels discharging electricity race up his arm and through his shoulder. 

He hits the ground hard, still half expecting the pain of the electric shock to come, but instead he gets a painful thump as his whole body jars. The wind is knocked out of him, and he gasps. 

Where the magic is still absorbing through the Gauntlet, his hand feels unbearably warm. He realises in some sort of daze of exhaustion and pain, that his gloved hand is trailing against the electric wall, which is slowly and surely, bit by bit, shredding apart and disappearing under the touch of the Gauntlet. 

He lies there on the damp ground and watches the last pieces of magic fade away. He and Albus are free. _Albus_ is free. 

The realisation hits him, a wave of pure relief, but as it does something else washes over him. A flood of total exhaustion hits, and a gnawing, biting pain builds up in his heart. It goes from something vague and irritating, to something excruciating and overwhelming, and he hears his own voice cry out in the distance. 

The whole world is pain, and his awareness is fading, crumbling at the edges, leaving just darkness, and vague, detached feelings. Gentle hands on his shoulders and chest and hair. Distant voices calling a name that he thinks might be his own. The ground cold and hard beneath him. And then he feels nothing at all anymore, as he sinks deep, deep down into aching blackness. 


	9. Riddles and Clues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus, Scorpius, and Rose pay a visit to the Headmistress's office, and Rose makes her first mistake.

His clothes are wet, that's the first thing he realises. Soggy and damp and heavy. And cold. He's very cold. His fingers feel icy and... they're trailing in water too. Why is it so wet? 

It takes considerable effort but he opens his eyes, squinting against the light. Above him he can see a floating candle, bright and golden. He blinks. There were no candles in the Chamber of Secrets. Does that mean he's somewhere else? But where? How? 

Suddenly an intense pain seizes hold of his heart and he gasps and rolls onto his side, coughing and clutching at his chest. Immediately there are hands on him, holding him still. 

"Scorpius!" Albus's voice. Breathless and panicking. "I've got you. Here."

Something glass presses against his lips and liquid dribbles down his chin before he realises he's supposed to be drinking. He starts gulping it down and immediately a sort of cold numbness floods through him. He shivers but keeps drinking, because it does feel better. He drains the bottle and lies still for a moment, head in Albus's lap, Albus's fingers threading gently through his damp hair, waiting for the potion to take effect. 

Finally the pain fades to a dull gnawing that he can ignore, and he lifts his head and twists round. "Where- This is Myrtle's bathroom." 

"I know," Albus says, smoothing his hands over Scorpius's shoulders. "Just... Lie still, okay?" 

"I'm fine. The potion, it works fast." Scorpius scrambles onto his knees, arms and legs almost too weak to hold him, but far too determined to let that stop him. Albus's hands linger anxiously, ready to support him if he falls. 

"How did we get here?" Scorpius asks.

"Rose did... something," Albus says. "I was a bit preoccupied." 

Scorpius nods. "I'm sorry." He rubs his eyes and looks around. Rose is kneeling in the doorway with the Marauder's Map open on her lap, frowning down at it. Myrtle is currently nowhere to be seen, although there's a gurgling and sighing sound coming from one of the cubicles. 

"No, I just wanted you out of there. Didn't want to spend any more time down there..." He looks at Scorpius, and Scorpius looks back to see concern sparkling in his eyes. "Are you okay?" 

"Better," Scorpius says, rubbing the heel of his hand against his chest. "Did you get the teeth we needed?" 

Albus pats the bag on his back. "They're safe in here."

"Good." Scorpius rubs his forehead and only then does he realise the Gauntlet is gone. "Where did the-"

"It sort of... Melted into the ground. After the barrier disappeared and you passed out..."

"Fine," Scorpius says, nodding. He still feels so lost, his brain struggling to catch up with everything it's missed. "That's fine. I didn't want to keep it anyway."

He sways a bit on his knees. The room is spinning just a little bit, enough to make him feel unsteady, like he can't get a grasp on the world. He puts both his hands flat on the floor to support him, but as he presses his right hand down he feels pain burn through it. 

He hisses and hastily withdraws it from the floor. When he turns it over, he sees there's still a long, red gash across his palm. It's not bleeding anymore, but it doesn't look great. He's not sure if he's capable of doing magic right now, but he draws his wand to have a go. He waves it over the cut, murmuring a string of words that make it seal up into a thin, pink line. Tiredness floods through him, and the world slides sideways. He doesn't realise he's falling until Albus's arms wrap around him and hold him up.

"Maybe you shouldn't be doing magic right now," Albus says softly. 

"Maybe," Scorpius agrees. He puts his wand away and lies in Albus's arms for a moment, just because it's easier than sitting up for himself. "What's the plan now?" 

Albus hesitates for a moment. "I don't know if you should be thinking about-"

Scorpiis glares at him. They don't have time for Albus to get overprotective and cautious now. They have things to do. 

Albus sighs in response. "Fine. We're waiting until the coast is clear, and then we're breaking into McGonagall's office."

"Okay..." Scorpius says slowly. He frowns, thinking hard, trying to work out if he's missed something obvious in his exhausted state. "Why?" 

"What's one of the ingredients we still need?" Albus asks.

Scorpius shakes his head. "Most of them?" 

"Phoenix tears!" Albus says triumphantly. He smiles, seeming to expect some kind of recognition from Scorpius. 

Scorpius looks blankly at him, and he sighs.

"There's only one person we know who ever had a Phoenix." 

Realisation dawns on Scorpius, and he sits up, flailing in excitement, all pain and tiredness forgotten. "Dumbledore! We're going to talk to his portrait?" 

 Albus grins and nods. "If anyone knows where Fawkes has gone, it'll be him. We have to start somewhere, right? The only problem is that our parents are here."

Scorpius's heart stops. "My dad is in the castle?"

"Not anymore," Rose says from where she's sitting in the doorway. She looks up from the Map. "They've all just disappeared. I don't know where they've gone though." She gets to her feet and walks across to them. "I'm glad you're awake. I was worried you might... well, anyway." She pats him on the arm and turns to show Albus the Map. "Look, they were in McGonagall's office, and now they're all gone. It looks like she's heading down to the Great Hall." She looks between the two of them. "I'd say this is as good a time as any." 

"And we're just going to break into her office?" Scorpius asks. "Is that even possible? Do we know the password?" 

Rose waves a dismissive hand. "The password is easy. I visited her last week, and it only changes about once a month. We'll have to be quick though; I don't know how long she'll stay away."

Albus looks at Scorpius. "Do you feel okay to-"

"Yes," Scorpius says before he can even ask. "I do. Come on." He gets to his feet, holding the edge of one of the sinks for support, but trying not to be too obvious about it. His legs still feel wobbly, but he thinks he can manage. When he pushes away from the sink, Rose takes hold of his arm. 

"We're going under the Cloak," she says. "Since it's the middle of the night and you're meant to be in St Mungo's. I'd rather not be expelled, and if we just go wandering around the school someone will see us and this whole thing will be over."

Scorpius nods. "Agreed." 

He certainly doesn't mind slipping under the cloak. It's warm under there, especially with Albus and Rose pressed in close beside him. Albus wraps an arm round his waist, and he leans against Albus's side. Rose keeps hold of his arm, and he's grateful to have the support from both sides. Even though his legs are weak and stiff from recent underuse, the two of them are giving him the strength to keep going, almost to the point where he can pretend, even to himself, that there's nothing wrong. 

"Do you think there's a chance any of the heads' portraits will raise the alarm?" He whispers as they leave the bathroom and set off up to McGonagall's office, tiptoeing along the corridor.

"It's definitely possible," Rose murmurs. "The ones who know you and your dad seem the most likely to tell. We'll just have to be quick. In and out. No hanging around." 

Scorpius nods in silence. He feels a bit apprehensive about the idea of breaking into McGonagall's office. The information will be useful, and it'll be amazing to talk to Dumbledore, but at the same time it's such a risk. He doesn't want to get caught. If they get caught... He has a feeling it would be bad. Even through the cold numbness of the painkilling potion, he can feel an ache in his chest. His whole body feels weak and shaky, and he isn't sure either thing is going to improve. Whatever Dumbledore tells them, it had better be really useful.

After ten long, stressful minutes spent creeping through castle, all three of them wincing every time a staircase or door creaks too loudly in the silence, they make it to McGonagall's office. Rose glances around to check the coast is clear before she slips out from under the Cloak and walks over to the gargoyle guarding the entrance. 

It's raining outside, drumming hard on the castle windows, and wind rattles the glass, pushing through the gaps and sending chilly gusts down the corridor. Rose leans in close to the gargoyle and whispers: "Ginger Newt". Despite all the noise, it still sounds painfully loud in the deserted darkness. Scorpius glances around, anxious and twitchy, but there's no sign of anyone, and no approaching footsteps to be heard. There isn't even anyone else on this side of the castle according to the Map, which Albus has open and is inspecting by the light of his wand. 

Thankfully, the gargoyle unfreezes and springs aside to let them in, so they don't have to stand exposed in the corridor any longer. The three of them rush past before it can change its mind and step onto the staircase to McGonagall's office. It ascends far too slowly for Scorpius's liking. He pulls the cloak off and shifts from foot to foot, staring into the air, willing them upwards. Beside him, Albus also fights his way out from under the cloak and shoves it into his backpack. 

"Do you think McGonagall knows when someone uses the password to her office?" Scorpius muses as they rise.

Albus looks at Rose, who nods, somehow looking serenely calm.

"Undoubtedly." 

"Merlin," Albus mutters. 

"We'll be quick," Rose says brightly. 

It feels like an age before they reach the office door, and by the time they reach it they're all standing on the top step, desperate to get inside. They spill through the door the second they reach it, and Albus and Rose rush straight across the room, towards the biggest painting, just to the side of McGonagall's chair. Meanwhile, Scorpius pauses by the door to have a proper look around. 

He's only ever visited this room on a handful of occasions, most of them under less than brilliant circumstances, or on Prefect business. It's a shame, because it's a joy to be here. There's so much history, so many interesting books and artefacts, not to mention the possibility of fascinating conversations courtesy of the portraits on the walls. This place has played host to some of the greatest witches and wizards to ever live. It's full of inspiration, and if this is the last time Scorpius will ever be here then he's going to enjoy himself. 

He wanders over to one of the bookshelves and runs a finger along the spines. It isn't quite as exciting as the shelf in Hermione's office, nothing will ever top that, but there are some fascinating old books here. There's one dusty, leather-bound tome about Animagi, which he's about to pull out, but a bored, drawling voice speaks from the wall above him, drawing his attention. 

"Scorpius Malfoy. If it isn't my great great, Merlin only knows how many greats, grandson. You're supposed to be in St Mungo's." 

Scorpius stumbles away from the bookcase and stares wildly up at the portraits on the wall. There are so many up there that it takes him a second to spot the headmaster speaking to him, but when he does he grins. "Phineas!" 

Phineas Nigellus doesn't look even a little bit pleased to see him. He folds his arms and surveys Scorpius with a haughty expression. "Your father was just here, boy. He's very worried about you. Very keen to find you. He seems to think you're dying." He leans forward in his seat and peers down at Scorpius. " _Are_ you dying?" 

"I hope not," Scorpius says, looking back at him. "Sir, please don't tell Dad I'm here. It's important." 

Phineas ignores Scorpius's plea. "Why are you here?" He asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice, even though he's feigning indifference. 

"We're here to talk to Dumbledore," Scorpius says. 

Phineas sighs and sits back in his seat. "Of course. Everyone is here to speak to Dumbledore." 

"It's nice to see you too!" Scorpius says. 

"No, it's not." Phineas nods in Dumbledore's direction. "Go and get on with your chat, boy. You don't have long." There's something in his tone that sends a shiver down Scorpius's spine. It sounds almost like a threat, and there's a hint of a nasty smile in it. Scorpius doesn't waste another second as he scrambles across the room to join Albus and Rose. 

Professor Dumbledore is already awake. He's talking to Albus, twinkling down at him, while Albus looks a bit uncomfortable. He's gone pink and is shifting his feet like he's considering running away. 

"I always found it to be an excellent name," Dumbledore says brightly. "Not too long or too short, not overly complicated to spell. Highly convenient. And I hope my impact upon it doesn't have adverse consequences for yourself."

Albus mumbles something and stares down at the floor.

Dumbledore smiles kindly at him. "I've always thought one should have a chance to make one's own name famous, but alas, as there are far more people in the world than names, that is often easier said than done." 

Scorpius steps up beside Albus and gives him a gentle nudge. "Um, hi!" he squeaks, trying not to be intrusive but far too aware that Dumbledore is right there. 

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes turn from Albus to Scorpius. "Ah. You must be Scorpius Malfoy. Now that is certainly a name you have complete control of."

Scorpius's heart is racing and he's not sure he knows how to breathe anymore. He's never had chance to speak to Dumbledore properly before. He gives him a little wave, then clasps his hands behind his back to try and keep them under control as he bounces on the tips of his toes. "It's an honour to meet you, sir," he says, very fast and very high-pitched, giving Dumbledore a half bow. 

"Likewise," Dumbledore says, inclining his head in return. 

Not for the first time, Scorpius is thankful that Albus knows him so well, because as soon as he feels like he might collapse on the floor with excitement, a hand closes around his waist and holds him up. He pats Albus gratefully on the back, fans himself with his hand, and grins up at Dumbledore, so wide that his cheeks are starting to hurt. 

"Sir," he says breathlessly, "I always wondered... The seventh use of Dragon's Blood. Was that an accidental discovery? Because in your book, you said-" 

"Scorpius," Albus mutters, nudging him. 

Scorpius nudges Albus in return and looks up at Dumbledore. 

"I suppose," Dumbledore says, "if by accidental you mean that my elbow slipped and knocked the vial of Dragon's Blood into the container of coagulant, thus forming the resultant elixir... then yes, I rather think it was an accident."

"Wow!" Scorpius squeaks.

"Honestly," Dumbledore continues. "I'm rather amazed it was never discovered before. My mistake was one anyone could have made." His eyes sparkle as he smiles down at Scorpius. "But thankfully, I seem to have been the first person with both the skill to identify what had happened, and the brains to write it down succinctly."

Scorpius feels like he's about to explode. He's never been so excited. A hundred questions pop into his mind all at once. "And when you-"

"Sir," Albus says softly, cutting Scorpius off before he can get going on a tirade. "Um. I'm sorry, but we didn't just come here to talk about your discoveries-" 

"As amazing as they were," Rose adds diplomatically. 

"Right," Albus agrees. "Well, we did actually have a question for you." 

Dumbledore surveys the three of them over the top of his half-moon glasses. "I'll admit, I did think it a little... over-committed to break into the headmistress's office in the dead of night, risking quite serious trouble, just to talk to me about Dragon's Blood." He smiles at them. "How may I help you?" 

Albus glances at Scorpius, then looks back at Dumbledore. "We're looking for your Phoenix." 

"Fawkes," Scorpius adds. 

Albus nods. "We need some Phoenix Tears, you see. We, um... there's a potion. We're brewing this potion, and we need Phoenix Tears for it. But Fawkes is the only one we know about, so..." he trails off, and Scorpius glances over to see him looking desperately up at the portrait. 

"We were wondering if maybe you would know where we could find him," Scorpius finishes, with a hopeful smile.

Dumbledore sighs, some of the twinkle in his eyes fading as he shakes his head. "Alas, the thing you've come here to ask is something I do not know the answer to." 

"But you have to help!" Albus steps forward, and when he speaks his voice is tight, like he's on the verge of tears. "Please, sir. If there's anything you know at all... It's for Scorpius. He's sick. He might be dying, and this is the only thing that can help. We _need_ this. We're counting on you." 

He's glaring at Dumbledore, shoulders squared, determined. Like he's going to get the answers through sheer force of will and desperation. Scorpius has seen the force of Albus's will reduce solid objects to dust, conjure Patronuses bright enough to make the sun look dull in the sky, and create concoctions that could kill a person or restore them to full health. He's certain Albus could move mountains and part seas if he put his mind to it. But Dumbledore is the greatest wizard to have ever lived, and if anyone can say no to Albus then it's him. 

Scorpius turns his back on the portrait, and on Albus, and digs his hands into his pockets. He doesn't want to see his boyfriend's terrible disappointment. His own is hard enough to deal with. 

McGonagall's desk is littered with papers and books. There's a diagram of the school there; all sorts of letters on official-looking parchment. There's even one letter from St Mungo's. A letter about him. Reporting his disappearance, and expressing deep concern for his wellbeing. 

He bows his head and scuffs the toe of his shoe on the floor. If this is it, if it's all over, he doesn't want to go back to St Mungo's. Maybe he can come back to school for a bit before the end. Maybe he can go to his classes, eat in the Great Hall, curl up at night in Albus's bed, everything he usually does, and just be normal for a few days. If he has to die anywhere, he'd rather it be here. 

"Well," Dumbledore says from behind him, tone still light despite the gravity of the situation. "I may not know exactly where you can find Fawkes now, but I always did enjoy visiting the Hebrides. Admittedly, they were a little cold and wet on occasion, but the island of Jura in particular had some rather excellent mountains. They offer quite a spectacular view on sunny days, as I recall." 

Scorpius glances round to see Dumbledore beaming down at them now. Rose and Albus glance at each other, then they both look at Scorpius. 

Rose hesitates for a second, then looks back at the portrait. "So... you think Albus and Scorpius should go to this island?" 

"It's the sort of place I think I would have liked to retire to," Dumbledore replies, apparently ignoring the question. "Being remote enough that people would have had great difficulty contacting me, but also not being entirely inaccessible." 

"Phoenixes live in mountainous terrain, don't they?" Albus asks quietly, glancing at Scorpius. Both he and Rose nod together, and Dumbledore smiles.

"Of course," he says, eyes twinkling, "this is pure speculation. I don't know exactly where Fawkes is. He could be in Egypt, or Tibet, or really anywhere. A visit to Jura may be a waste of time that you don't seem to have. However, it may also be rather fruitful." 

"Go," Rose murmurs, turning to the other two. "It's the best we've got, isn't it? And an island can't be too big. It won't take as long to search as if you were wandering randomly through the Highlands." 

"We'll Floo to your house," Albus says to Scorpius. "It's big enough that even if your dad is there we'll be able to sneak through without him seeing. And then once we get out, we can Apparate to this island."

Scorpiis looks dubious. "It's a bit of a long way from Wiltshire to the Hebrides. Have you ever Apparated that far before? I don't think I have..." 

"I can do it," Albus says, full of confidence. "I've been up there before so I know where I'm going. Once we're there, we'll find Fawkes and everything will be fine. Like you said, Rose, the island can't be too big. We can do this." He looks directly at Scorpius, and his eyes glitter with life and determination. "We _can_ do this." 

It's impossible not to believe him. "Alright," Scorpius says. 

"Is there anything else I can help you three with before you set off on this daring adventure?" Dumbledore asks. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure to talk to you." 

"The pleasure was all mine," Dumbledore says, inclining his head politely to each of them in turn. "Now, I don't wish to alarm you, but I think I can hear the stairs moving again. The Headmistress seems to be returning, and I think it's time to take your leave. I wish you the best of luck." 

The next few seconds are pure chaos. Albus summons a pouch of Floo Powder from the depths of his backpack. Rose hugs him, and then Scorpius. She squeezes Scorpius tightly, and murmurs: "I'm going to see you again. I know I am." Scorpius can't find the words to reply, so he just squeezes her in return and closes his eyes against the sting of tears. 

A few seconds later, she releases him and starts shoving him towards the fire. He goes, because she's impossible to argue with, but before he steps inside he catches hold of her hand. 

"Rose-"

"Go on," she says, pushing him away. 

"Goodbye," he says, one foot in the emerald flames, the other planted firmly on the hearth rug. 

She shakes her head. "See you later. Have fun." She kisses him on the cheek, then she gives him one final push, and he steps into the fire.

His last glimpse of Hogwarts shows him Professor McGonagall bursting through the door into the office, and Rose turning resignedly to face her. 

 

"Miss Granger-Weasley," Professor McGonagall thunders. Her tartan dressing gown swirls around her, and her hair is escaping from its severe bun. Somehow she looks even more intimidating this way, and Rose shuffles her feet and pushes an innocent smile onto her face as she blocks the fireplace from view. 

"Hi, Professor," she says. 

McGonagall strides across the room. "It is the middle of the night and you are up here without permission. I hope you have an excellent explanation for this." 

Rose glances over her shoulder at the fire. The flames are now crackling their usual red and yellow again, no more emerald. The boys should be safe now. She shuffles a step to the side, trying to come up with a plausible lie.

"I was told," McGonagall continues, "that there were three people up here." She stops beside her desk and rests a hand on it. Somehow it lends her even more authority, and Rose struggles to hold the piercing gaze she's now being fixed with. "I don't suppose you would happen to know anything about that, would you?" 

"Th-three people?" Rose asks, trying to arrange her face into a surprised expression. "No, I don't think so... Who were the other two people meant to be?" 

McGonagall removes her glasses and sets them down on the table, then she gestures at one of the seats opposite. "Sit down, Rose." 

Rose twists her hands together and drags her feet as she crosses to the chair. She perches on the edge of the seat, certain that absolutely nothing good can come from this conversation. Around the walls, every single one of the portraits is awake and watching them. Rose can feel the weight of their gaze on her. She straightens herself up and tries to look confident, like she belongs here. She tries to sit the way her mum does in meetings, tall and authoritative. When she glances up she meets Dumbledore's eyes, and he gives her the briefest flash of a smile before fixing his gaze on McGonagall's back. Somehow that smile gives Rose heart, and she lifts her chin and fixes her eyes on the headmistress. 

"I received this," McGonagall says, picking a letter up from the desk. "From St Mungo's." She eyes Rose. "Do you know what it says?" 

Rose hesitates, then shakes her head, doing her best to look curious and a little apprehensive. "No. No, I don't."

"It says that Scorpius Malfoy has gone missing from his room." 

"Missing?" Rose gasps, letting her eyes go wide. "But how- But he might- Where has he gone?" 

"We don't know," McGonagall says, putting the letter back down. "All we know is that Scorpius and Albus were together this evening, in Scorpius's room at the hospital, and about half an hour after they were last seen, they were discovered missing."

"But that's-" Rose shakes her head, and prays that she's doing a good enough job here. "He was safe in St Mungo's. He was getting better... Why would he run away? Why would Albus let him? I don't understand..."

McGonagall folds her arms on the desk, leaning forward a little in her seat. "I was hoping that that might be something you could tell me." She takes a breath and lowers her voice. Rose gets the impression that she's trying her best not to sound suspicious. "I know that you are friends with Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy. I don't suppose you've heard anything about their plans? Where they might be going? What they're up to? I don't suppose you would have met them in the school tonight to help them with anything?" 

"Met them here?" Rose asks, trying to sound surprised. "I don't know- They were in the school? Tonight? I didn't know! I would have-" She takes a deep breath and thinks about the sight of Scorpius spinning away in the emerald flames. It could be the last time she ever sees him alive. She already misses him. 

"I-I would have liked to see them," she says, letting the emotion filter into her voice. She can't really help it right now, and even if she could she wouldn't because it'll be more convincing this way. "I haven't seen Scorpius properly in weeks." There are tears stinging her eyes; she doesn't blink them away as she looks up at Professor McGonagall, and she knows her eyes are sparkling with sadness in the candlelight. "I've missed not having him around." A couple of tears spill down her cheeks, and she brushes them away hurriedly, making a show of sniffing and trying to hide how upset she is. 

Unfortunately, McGonagall doesn't seem convinced. She gives a quiet sigh and sits back in her chair. "Rose, I understand you wanting to protect your friends. Your mother and father would have done the same. But this is a matter of life and death. Scorpius is in a very serious condition. He may well die if we don't find him soon. So I will ask you again, whether you-" 

She breaks off as a whoosh of rushing wind starts up in the fireplace across the room. Emerald light flashes as the flames roar, and Draco Malfoy steps out, fists clenched, set with determination. 

"Where are they?" He asks, marching across the room. 

McGonagall stares at him, and Rose's heart sinks. He knows they were here. One of the portraits must have told him. 

"Did you stop them?" He demands, walking right up to the desk. "Where are Albus and Scorpius?" 

McGonagall gets to her feet. "Draco, I thought you were at home."

Draco points across the room at one of the portraits. "Phineas told me they were here, all three of them. That Scorpius was here. Are you telling me they've gone again?" 

McGonagall blinks at him, then turns her gaze on Rose. Piercing, and just a little bit terrifying. "Explain yourself." 

Rose looks between the two of them and know she's trapped. "Okay," she says, holding her hands up. "Okay. So maybe I heard they were in the castle. Someone spotted them outside the Great Hall, and this is the only fireplace you can get out of when everything's locked down, so this is where I came." She gives a little flourish of her hands, indicating the room around her. "I wanted to stop them. I thought I could- But they seemed so set on... I don't know what they're doing, but when they said they needed to get out of the castle... I had to help them! They're my friends. And they told me that whatever it is they're up to, that it might make Scorpius better." She lets tears well up in her eyes again and sniffs. "I want him to be well. I want him to get better. I want my friend back." 

"You're lying," Draco snaps, drawing his wand. "You do know where they are. You've been working with them this whole time. If you helped them to escape-" 

"Draco!" McGonagall says indignantly. "Put that away. I won't let you threaten my students." She glares at Draco until he slips the wand back into his pocket, then she turns to Rose. "Miss Granger-Weasley. You are my Head Girl, and I know you understand the consequences of breaking the rules. You have already lied to me this evening, and if you do so again now you will be in very serious trouble. Do you understand that?" 

Rose swallows and meets McGonagall's eyes, brushing a couple of tears from her cheeks. "Yes, Professor." 

"Good. In light of that, is there anything you wish to tell us about where we can find Scorpius and Albus?" 

Rose thinks very hard, then she shakes her head. She wipes her eyes on her sleeve and looks down at her hands, and she doesn't have to fake the way they're trembling. "N-no, Professor. I don't know where they've gone." It's not a total lie. She doesn't know exactly where they are now. They're planning to go to Jura but if something goes wrong with the Apparition, or if they can't make it the whole way in one go... they could be anywhere. 

McGonagall scrutinises her for a moment longer before straightening up and looking at Draco. "I saw no sign of them when I got here. If they came this way then they left before I returned." 

Draco turns his back on both her and Rose, shaking his head in disbelief. "What is the point of having the school on lockdown if they can still escape?" 

"My office was locked," McGonagall says softly. "The only people trusted with the password are my fellow teachers and the Head Boy and Girl. Any other student wouldn't have been able to get in." 

Draco turns to shoot Rose a venomous look. "Then perhaps you should rethink who you trust in positions of authority." 

Professor McGonagall's eyes blaze with intense rage and her nostrils flare. "I understand, Mr Malfoy, that you are very upset, but that does not give you the right to question my judgement around matters to do with this school. I trust both Miss Granger-Weasley and your son to maintain the security of Hogwarts. We are dealing with exceptional circumstances here, and you should understand that Rose will be punished for this."

"As she should be," Draco mutters. 

McGonagall looks at Rose. "You will receive detention for this, and I will be writing to your parents."

Rose nods and shuffles her feet. "Okay." 

"Do you understand the gravity of your actions?" 

Rose nods again. "Yes, Professor." 

"Good. Then you are dismissed for tonight. I will be in touch tomorrow to arrange your detention. Now get out of here, and go straight to bed. If I find that you've wandered any further tonight you will be in much deeper trouble." 

Rose nods for a third time and sprints for the door. 

As she hurries past Draco, something flutters out of one of her pockets and falls to the ground. She turns to pick it up, and realises, to her horror, that her grimy, tattered copy of the Moramortia recipe is lying face up on the ground. She reaches down to snatch it up, but Draco gets there first. 

He picks it up and is about to hold it out to her when he stops, eyes scanning the parchment. 

"What's this?" He asks. 

"I don't know," she lies, and she can feel her cheeks burning. "I found it on the floor by the door when I was coming to find Albus and Scorpius, and I just... picked it up. I didn't look at it." 

Draco looks at her, and Rose doesn't understand how eyes the colour of ice can seem so much like they're on fire. "You just picked it up?" 

She nods. "I thought it was rubbish, or... I don't know." She shrugs and twists her hands together. "Is it important?" She tries to keep her voice light and curious, and she hopes McGonagall and Draco can't hear that it's shaking. 

Draco looks at her for a long moment, then he glances down at it. Rose watches his eyes as they flicker across the paper. It's like seeing two brooms collide in slow motion. The impending doom of it, knowing exactly how this is going to end, in pain and disaster, is awful. Draco is already pale, but by the time he looks up again he's gone sheet white, and his hands are shaking as they grip the parchment. 

"Moramortia," he says very quietly. "This was theirs. Albus and Scorpius's. This is what-" He breaks off, holding the parchment out to McGonagall as he buries his face in one hand. 

McGonagall takes it from him, and as she reads her eyes go wide with horror. 

"This was on the floor?" She looks at Rose. "You picked this up?" 

Rose swallows and nods. "Yes, Professor." 

"This is what they think is wrong with him," Draco says in a strangled voice. "With Scorpius. Not Astoria's disease, but this- This awful thing." He looks at McGonagall. "It says- it says it's fatal." 

"Basilisk Fangs," McGonagall murmurs, still reading. "That's why they were here. They were in the Chamber, and now they're... Where are they now?" 

"None of this means anything," Draco spits in pure frustration. He pulls the parchment back to him, screwing it up as his fingers clench on it. "A sacrifice, a memory of love. These aren't potions ingredients, they're riddles. How is this supposed to help us find them?" 

McGonagall puts a hand on Draco's arm but he pulls it away. He thrusts the parchment at her and starts pacing through the office, black robes swirling in a whirlwind of anger and misery. 

"Did you ever hear them talking about this?" McGonagall asks, gently smoothing the parchment out and looking at Rose. "Any plans? Anything at all?" 

"I don't know," she lies, digging her hands into her pockets. "I mean... Albus was working on Healing Potions a lot, but we were doing them in class, and he always has projects. I didn't hear them talking about anything to do with running away, or..." she trails off, trying to sound helpless. "Why didn't they tell me?" She asks forlornly. "I'm supposed to be their friend." She sniffs and shakes her head, burying her face in her hands once more. 

"Rose," McGonagall says kindly. "It's been a long day. I think you should go to bed."

Rose nods and draws in a gulping breath that she hopes sounds tearful. "Okay. Will you tell me if you find them? Please?" 

"Of course," McGonagall says. "Goodnight, Rose." 

"Night Professor." She looks at Draco, who has his back to her at the moment as he strides around the edge of the room. "Goodnight, Draco." 

She makes a show of wiping her nose on her sleeve as she walks to the door, but as soon as she gets through it she flees. Down the stairs, out past the gargoyle, and when she hits the corridor she starts running flat out, heart pounding in her chest.

Draco knows _everything_ , or, almost everything. He knows about the illness, about the potion. He knows that Albus and Scorpius have been in the Chamber. But he doesn't know about Jura. He doesn't know where they are now. He doesn't even know which ingredient they're looking for. They still have an advantage, and now they need to keep it. 

One floor up from McGonagall's office she slips into a bathroom and draws her wand. It's dark and silent, apart from the constant dripping of a tap. The scudding grey clouds outside keep the moon at bay, so once the door has swung shut behind her, there's no light for Rose to see by. But that doesn't matter. She won't be in the dark for long. 

She raises her wand in front of her, thinks of her mum and Hugo laughing at her dad's jokes, and murmurs: "Expecto Patronum". 

Immediately the bathroom is filled with blinding silver light, and she has to squint to see the pine marten standing on the edge of the sink, looking at her. 

"Hi," she whispers, not daring to be any louder. It may be the middle of the night but this place is full of ghosts and teachers who could hear her. "I need you to take a message to Albus and Scorpius. They'll be somewhere in Scotland. You'll find them." She takes a breath. "I need you to tell them... Tell them this: 'Draco knows about the potion, but not where you are. Don't do anything stupid, and be careful when you come back from Jura. Good luck!'" She pauses for a second, considering the message, then she nods. "That's it." 

For a moment the pine marten looks at her, then it seems to understand that she's done, because it springs lightly from the edge of the sink onto her shoulder. It brushes past her ear, like a breath of warm summer wind. She reaches up to touch it. 

"Thank you," she tells it, and its tail curls briefly round her neck before it leaps from her shoulder and vanishes into thin air. She turns to follow it, but the bathroom is plunged back into darkness again and she can't see anything at all, except the pattern of the tiles directly beneath her feet, and the faint grey glow of the moon through the clouds beyond the window. 

With a sigh she turns to the door, fumbles for the handle, and lets herself out. There's nothing she can do now, except watch and wait, and hope that this doesn't all go terribly wrong. 


	10. Frost and Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make it to Jura, but things start to go wrong from there. The weather is typically Scottish, Scorpius's illness is getting worse, and Albus taking matters into his own hands could spell disaster for the adventure, and for his and Scorpius's relationship...

It's a cold Autumn night, and the chill in the air has a sharp bite. Scorpius keeps his shoulders hunched, and his hands tucked deep in his pockets, but it still isn't enough for him to feel warm. Beside him, Albus keeps rubbing his hands together, and his teeth are chattering. 

Overhead, the moon is wearing a halo of ice, and its pale glow is making the frost on the ground glitter and sparkle. The drive is just a little bit slippery underfoot, and Scorpius reaches out to link arms with Albus for support. Albus glances sideways at him, and for a moment it seems like he's considering pulling away. But then he just takes hold of Scorpius's arm and squeezes it in his grip.

Behind them, the black shape of the Manor looms large, and Scorpius keeps glancing over his shoulder at it. There are no lights in any of the windows, but he's still terrified that there might be someone watching, that his dad might be in there, that this whole thing might be over in a matter of minutes. 

The gravel crunches beneath their feet as they walk, and the sound makes Scorpius tense and wound up. He fiddles with the inside of his pocket, picking at a thread, then pulling the lining inside out and tugging at it. 

"Are you alright?" Albus murmurs. "I don't think there's anyone in there. We're safe. And once we get back to Scotland no one will find us." 

"I know," Scorpius says, breath swirling in the air in front of him. "But-" He sighs, and the mist dances in eddies, ghosting away into the dark night. "I know." 

Albus tightens his grip on his arm. "We're nearly at the gate. We can Apparate from outside, can't we?"

Scorpius nods. "We always go from the lane."

They lapse into silence, and there's nothing to hear but crunching gravel, and the gentle rustling of the wind through the bare trees. Scorpius tries not to breathe too loudly, and he holds onto Albus like he's an anchor, like he'll keep them both grounded and safe. He's always been the better one under pressure. 

They see nothing but shadow and moonlight as they walk. The black shapes of the trees lining the driveway shift in the breeze. Scorpius keeps his eyes on the road, and tries not to imagine things lurking in the darkness. 

Just a few feet from the gate, it happens. The night suddenly blazes with light. Scorpius gives a squeak of fright and stumbles backwards, shielding his eyes with his hands and falling to the ground. Albus jumps back too, and his hands tighten in Scorpius's jacket, trying but failing to keep him up. They both squint into the silver light, and Scorpius recognises it first. 

"Albus," he gasps, struggling to scramble off the floor. "It's Rose!" He tugs on Albus's arm as he gets to his feet, and the pine marten gazes up at them from the ground. 

It sits down, tail wrapped round itself, and says in Rose's voice: " _Draco knows about the potion, but not where you are. Don't do anything stupid, and be careful when you come back from Jura. Good luck!_ " Then it fades, as quickly as it had come, the silver light melting away, dissipating to leave stars distorting their vision. 

Scorpius's grip tightens on Albus's arm as the darkness wraps itself around them again like a blanket. He feels like he's in free fall. His stomach lurches, and there's nothing in the world apart from those dreadful words. 

'Draco knows about the potion.' 

His dad knows. He knows what they're doing, he knows about Scorpius's illness, and he knows about the cure. What if he can work out what all the ingredients mean? What if he somehow knows Scorpius better than Scorpius knows himself? What if that means he can catch up to them and stops them? 

"We need to go," Albus says, from somewhere that seems very distant, and Scorpius realises that he's been tugging his sleeve. "Come on. We need to get away from the Manor." 

"He knows," Scorpius says, just standing there and looking at Albus because he doesn't know what else to do. "Dad knows what's wrong with me." His teeth are chattering. It was already cold, but the shock has made the night air feel even icier than before. Scorpius's legs are shaking, and he doesn't know how much longer they're going to hold him up. 

"I know he does," Albus says. "I know. So we need to move. Come on, Scorpius. Walk with me, okay?" 

Albus's arm is warm as it curls around Scorpius's waist. It's warm and solid, and Scorpius just lets himself be guided along. He doesn't have the energy or the willpower to resist. All he can hear are Rose's words echoing round and round inside his head. 

"You need to open the gate," Albus tells him, and he does it automatically, without thinking about it. He just presents himself in front of it and it grinds slowly open. 

Albus drags him through, out into the lane, and Scorpius stands shivering in the middle of the road. He hugs his arms around himself and glances back towards the Manor again. There's still no sign of light or life in any of the windows. He doesn't know where his dad is. At Hogwarts? With the Potters? 

Albus takes hold of his hand. "Are you ready to Apparate?" He asks. 

"I might never see it again," Scorpius says, gazing down the long drive at the hulking shadow of the distant house. The thought hadn't even occurred to him before. 

"Yes, you will," Albus says, and he sounds so determined. "Hold on tight." 

Scorpius takes a couple more seconds, then he drags his eyes away from the Manor and squeezes Albus's hands tightly in both of his. "Go on." 

Crushing, freezing darkness swallows them. All the air is being squashed from Scorpius's lungs. It's all he can do to hold onto Albus's hands. They're being pulled apart. His fingers are slipping. And then- 

Rain pounds down on top of his head. Fat, icy drops, that soak him to the skin within a second. He shrieks and covers his head with his hands. Beside him he hears Albus gasp as he's drenched in the torrential downpour. 

"I don't think I like Jura," Scorpius calls, over the sound of the drumming rain. 

"This isn't Jura," Albus calls back. He reaches up and scrabbles to pull his hood up, then he turns and pulls Scorpius's up too. 

"What do you mean this isn't Jura?" Scorpius asks, clutching the top of his jacket shut to stop the rain hitting his neck. "Are we in the wrong place?" 

Albus shakes his head. "No. We're where I meant us to be. We need to get inside." 

"Inside?" Scorpius ducks his head, adjusting his hood so it shields his face better. "Albus, we're in the middle of nowhere! There is no inside." 

"Yes there is." Albus grabs hold of his hand. "Run." 

They rush downhill, across rain-softened, uneven ground. Scorpius stumbles and twists his ankle, but Albus just grips his arm tighter and keeps running, and Scorpius has no choice but to keep pace. 

The rain lashes down on their heads, bouncing on the grass and rocks around them, and Scorpius's jeans are soaking and sticking to his skin. His breath comes in gasps and his legs burn, and just when he thinks his knees are about to give out, and that he'll just have to sink onto the ground and drown in the downpour, Albus points down the slope. 

"There."

Scorpius squints. Rain drips in his eyes, making him blink, but through the lashing sheets of water, he can just about make out a low, stone building at the bottom of the slope. The sight of the safe haven spurs him on. He clutches Albus's hand for support and keeps going. 

Together they tumble over the stile at the bottom of the hill, hands and feet slipping on the wet, mossy wood. Scorpius slithers down the other side, knocking his knee, and reaches up to help Albus down. Then they turn and sprint for the shelter, banging in through the rickety wooden door, and slamming it shut behind them against the elements. 

The raindrops rattle against the window panes, and Scorpius stands dripping and shivering just inside the doorway, arms wrapped round himself for warmth. It's freezing in this little hut. 

"What is this place?" He asks. 

"An Cladach," Albus says. 

"Bless you," Scorpius replies. 

Albus rolls his eyes and draws his wand, casting a fire into the grate on one side of the room. Crackling warmth and flickering orange light immediately begins to flood the space. Instinctively, Scorpius moves closer to it, holding his hands out. 

"This is An Cladach bothy," Albus says, glancing up at him. "We're not on Jura yet. I didn't want to Apparate to somewhere I'd never been before. Not in the dark anyway. We're close, though. A little hop across the sea and we'll be there."

"You've been here before?" Scorpius asks, curious. 

Albus nods and steps closer to the fire, crouching down and curling his body towards the warmth of the flames. "We came here on a walking holiday when I was younger. I mean, we didn't come _here_." He gestures around at the room. "James would never agree to sleep somewhere like this. But I remember finding this place and exploring. We sat on the rocks by the sea and ate our lunch." 

Scorpius perches on the edge of the lower bunk of one of the beds and looks around the room. It's low-ceilinged. Most of the space is taken up by the two beds and a bench. The walls are rough stone, covered with white paint that glows orange in the firelight. A stag's skull mounted on the wall over the fireplace sends the long shadows of sharp antlers curving across the wooden floorboards. 

"It's somewhere to keep dry," Albus says, looking up at him. His eyes look almost black in the low light, and his brow is furrowed with worry. "I know it isn't much, but it's better than a tent. And if it gets cold, I can cast some charms or-"

"Albus," Scorpius says softly. 

"Or something," Albus continues, ignoring him. "And we have sleeping bags." He pulls the backpack off his back and starts unzipping it. "I made sure I packed those. And I brought your favourite blanket from school. And Bathilda. And your pillows. I know you always need two, so I-"

" _Albus_." Scorpius gets to his feet and crosses to Albus. He crouches in front of him and touches a hand to his cheek. 

Albus stops going through the bag and looks up at him. His eyes sparkle in the flickering firelight. 

"This is perfect," Scorpius tells him, studying the shadows and angles being cast across his face. "It's brilliant. I wouldn't have even thought of this. We'd have been in some creepy cave or something if I was in charge. And I don't care if it's cold. I have you to warm me up." He leans forward to kiss Albus, but Albus dodges back an inch. 

He takes Scorpius's hand, the one resting against his cheek, and holds it, palm up. "I just want you to be safe," he says. "That's the most important thing." He brushes his fingers over Scorpius's palm, then pushes it firmly away as he gets to his feet. "You're soaking. We're both soaking. We should dry off and get some rest. It's a big day tomorrow." 

Scorpius picks himself up off the floor and draws his wand. "Did you really pack Bathilda? And my blanket?" 

Albus smiles and reaches into the backpack, plucking out a familiar grey, knitted shape, which he throws across to Scorpius. Scorpius catches it and hugs the bat to his chest. 

"You're the best boyfriend in the world," he says. 

Albus grins. "I know. But put her down. You're dripping on her." 

Scorpius sets Bathilda down on one of the beds and tries to bounce across to Albus, but he finds he doesn't have the energy, so he drags his feet instead and runs a hand through his wet hair. He struggles to stay awake while Albus finishes drying him off, but it's difficult when he feels so warm and sleepy. His eyelids start to droop while he waits for Albus to fish the sleeping bags out of the backpack. 

They end up curled together on the bottom bunk of one of the beds, sleeping bags zipped together. It's been so long since they slept in the same room, let alone the same bed, and the last thing Scorpius does is to crawl as close to Albus as he can get. He falls asleep with Bathilda crushed between them, and one of his arms curled round Albus's waist. It makes his chest ache, but he doesn't have the energy to care, and he's barely awake long enough to notice.

 

Scorpius is woken in the morning by pain burning through his body. It's all he can do to open his eyes and roll onto his side, scrunching his body up as small and tight as he can. There are Painkilling Potions somewhere. Probably in Albus's backpack, wherever that is. Somewhere too far away to find. 

He doesn't know what to do. Every fibre of his being is screaming in agony. He can feel his limbs twitching and shaking, out of his control. There's nothing in the world beyond the pain. 

"Albus," he whimpers. But Albus isn't there. The space in the bed next to him is cold and empty. He's alone. 

For the last few weeks, every single morning there's been someone waiting there to help him. Sometimes a Healer. Always his dad. It had got to the point of being irritating, not having the chance to do anything for himself. He just wanted some freedom. But now he wishes there was someone, anyone, here to help him. 

Through the haze of pain he tries to think. It's hard when his brain is screaming. He can't concentrate. But he knows that his wand is somewhere nearby, on the side by the bed, and if he can get that then he can do anything. 

He screws up all his courage, grits his teeth, and drags himself up the bed. His head swims, and he feels like he's about to pass out. He stops and rests his forehead on the pillow, taking deep breaths. When the dizziness subsides he moves again, just a few inches further, and he reaches out to feel for his wand. 

After a moment or two of patting at nothing but dusty wood, his fingers finally close around the handle, and he grips it with all his strength. He pulls it to his chest and lies there for a second, gathering himself, then he points it out into the room. 

"Accio Painkilling Potion," he says in a hoarse, desperate whisper. 

For an interminable, awful few seconds, nothing happens. Scorpius just lies there, squeezing his fingers around the handle of his wand, silently begging his mum to lend him strength. Then finally, _finally_ , cool glass nudges against the knuckles of his hand. 

He drops his wand and fumbles for the potion. Somehow he manages to uncork it, and he gathers his last remaining strength to push himself up on his elbows so he can drink. 

The potion doesn't taste good, but it also doesn't taste of fish. It's a sort of strong, herby taste, raw and savoury. There's no sweetness to it at all, and it's actually a little bitter on the tongue. But the effects take hold immediately, and that's the important thing. 

As the first drops slide down Scorpius's throat, he feels a cool numbness begin to spread through his chest, and by the time he's drained the bottle he feels almost normal again. Still, he lies there, sleeping bag pulled around his shoulders for warmth, Bathilda cradled against his chest, fingers digging hard into her soft body just because he needs something to hold onto, and waits for the potion to sink in completely. 

It's a couple of minutes before his head clears. His limbs still feel weak and shaky, but he's not in pain anymore. The numb sensation isn't great, it leaves him feeling floaty and sort of detached from his body, but it's so much better than the alternative that he can't complain. He pushes himself into a sitting position, swaying slightly and running a hand through his hair, then he stands up and looks around. 

Daylight is flooding the bothy. It filters in through the little windows, bright and clear. It's definitely not raining anymore. In the silence, now there's no rain drumming on the windows and the ground, he can hear the sea in the distance, lapping on rocks, washing and swirling and crashing. He can taste salt on his lips, and he draws in a great breath through his nose, trying to catch the scent of it too, but instead he gets something very different. The smell of cooking sausages. 

His stomach rumbles. It's been so long since he last ate, but he's only just now realised it. Now the pain has subsided, the thing he wants most in the world is food. 

He walks stiffly across to the door and pushes it open. Outside it's the most glorious day. Chilly, but with bright sunshine that sparkles on the calm sea. In the distance he can see the mountains of another island – is that Jura? And sitting cross-legged in the middle of the view, hair a mess, shoulders hunched, cooking sausages on a conjured fire, is Albus. 

Scorpius grins at the sight. "Good morning," he says, walking over and flopping down on the grass opposite him. He hopes he doesn't look like he's just been writhing round in agony for five minutes.

Albus glances up at him. "Hi. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up. How are you feeling?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "I took some of my potion. And now I'm starving. Where did you get these sausages from?" 

"School," Albus says. "The kitchens. I told the House Elves I wanted to have a campfire, and they just gave me them. I think I have some marshmallows in the bag too." 

Scorpius groans in delight. "I love you." 

Albus goes very slightly pink and waves his wand so a couple of the sausages levitate out of the fire and onto a plate. He holds it out to Scorpius. "I hope they're cooked."

"They look perfect," Scorpius says. "Just like you." 

The next few minutes are given over to silent and concentrated chomping. The sausages are so hot that they burn the inside of Scorpius's mouth, but he keeps shovelling them in as fast as he can regardless. Only when his plate is finally clear does he gesture across at the island across the water. 

"Is that Jura? Are we going to those mountains?" 

Albus glances over his shoulder and nods. "I think so. I've been practicing a couple of navigation spells. I'm not very good at them, but they might help. And I have a Muggle map as well, just in case. If the worst comes to the worst and we get really lost, we can always just Apparate straight back here. But really we should stay out as long as we can. As long as you think you can manage. There's a lot of ground to cover and Fawkes could be anywhere."

Scorpius nods, casts a spell to clean his plate, then sets it down on the ground. "I suppose we should get going then! No time to lose." 

It turns out that Albus has packed literally everything they could want. Scorpius winds his favourite Slytherin scarf round his neck and buries his face in it, while Albus squashes a bobble hat on top of his unruly hair. There's a thermos of tea, and Albus has stolen what looks to be every packet of sugar from the St Mungo's cafe, so Scorpius can make it drinkable. There's soup too, which they heat up with a spell and pour into a second thermos, before they finally unfurl Albus's Muggle map, join hands, and make the jump to Jura.

They land on a rocky, heather covered mountainside. A wall of wind slams into them, and Scorpius stumbles back and falls, hair whipping into his eyes. Albus staggers, but stays on his feet. He leans into the wind and battles over to Scorpius, helping him up off the ground. 

"We need to get to shelter!" Scorpius yells over the howling gale. 

Albus looks confused. He mouths something, but it's blown away before Scorpius can hear it. 

"Shelter!" Scorpius screeches, as loud as he can. 

Albus shakes his head. 

Scorpius grabs him by the front of his jacket and hauls him closer. He presses his lips to Albus's ear and shouts. "Get to shelter! Out of the wind!" And then, just in case Albus still doesn't understand, he makes a 'woooo' noise, like wind whistling wind, and spiders his fingers up Albus's chest. Albus gives him a look of pure judgement and shoves him away, but his fingers close round Scorpius's wrist, and he drags him off up the hill. 

It's surprisingly easy going, with the wind blowing them along. It would be harder to stand still or go down the hill. But that doesn't mean Scorpius isn't panting and exhausted by the time they get to a flat bit of hillside out of the wind. He staggers across the rocky ground and flops down as his legs give way, then he lies there, gasping for breath. 

Albus brushes his hair into some sort of order as he crouches beside him. "Are you alright?"

Scorpius nods and struggles to sit up. "My legs..." he draws in a deep breath and leans down to rub his calves. "They don't properly work anymore. Too long just sitting in bed." 

Albus's forehead creases into a frown, and he touches Scorpius on the knee. "Are you going to be okay? Maybe... maybe we can Apparate from point to point to save you from walking. If only I'd thought to pack brooms..." 

Scorpius shakes his head and bats his hand away. "No, we don't need brooms. I can walk. Just not very fast." He hauls himself to his feet, planting a hand on Albus's shoulder for support, and sways where he stands, looking around at the windswept mountainside. "Where do we go?" 

Albus stands up beside him and shrugs. He draws his wand, mutters a spell, and it spins on the palm of his hand, pointing straight back the way they'd come. "That's north. Shall we go west? We have to keep an eye out for Fawkes. He'll be big, with red and gold plumage, and-"

Scorpius bumps his shoulder into Albus's. "I know you're better than I am at Care of Magical Creatures, but I do know what a Phoenix looks like, Albus." 

Albus sighs. "Right. Sorry." He puts his wand away, digs his hands into his pockets, and starts walking west.

They walk for hours. Thankfully there's no remaining sign of last night's rain. Apart from the wind it's a nice day. Freezing cold, but they don't feel that when they're warm from walking, and with a bright blue sky overhead, and barely a cloud in sight, it's almost idyllic. 

Scorpius can only walk slowly, and not for very long at a time. He appreciates that Albus is clearly trying not to be frustrated with him, and he tries not to hold them up too much. His legs are aching, he thinks he might have twisted his ankle on a rock, and he feels dead on his feet, but he pushes on, trying not to show any sign of weakness. 

They stop and have lunch beside a little stream, both of them squashed together on a flat, lichen-covered rock. Once he's finished his lunch, Scorpius goes exploring and finds an Imp and several Plimpies, along with some boring Muggle fish. He's still kneeling beside the river, stirring up the surface with a stick to keep the Plimpies interested, when Albus finds him and drags him away. 

About half an hour after lunch, when the food and another dose of Painkilling Potion are starting to work their magic, Scorpius finds the energy to go skipping down a steep slope to hug Albus from behind. He kisses him on the cheek and takes hold of his hand. 

"How are you doing? Do your feet hurt yet?"

Albus gives a small smile and gently extracts his hand from Scorpius's, instead drawing his wand and doing his Four-Point Spell again. "Not yet. And I'm guessing yours don't either. You should save your energy." 

"The food is kicking in," Scorpius grins, running a hand down his arm. "Those marshmallows are a lifesaver." 

Albus twists his arm away, inspects the direction his wand is pointing in, and keeps walking straight on. He tucks his wand back into his pocket and keeps his hands there. 

Scorpius stands stock still, staring at him, at his tight frame, hands hidden in his jacket, inaccessible and unfriendly. Everything about his stance says 'do not touch', and Scorpius doesn't understand it. Albus is usually so tactile. He'll hold hands, he'll hug, he likes to be touched; he finds it reassuring. He's always been so much more open to it than Scorpius. But now... 

Scorpius swallows. "Albus," he says softly. 

Albus glances back at him. "I'm glad you liked the marshmallows." His smile is just a little bit stiff, and Scorpius feels his heart fracturing, like cracks running through glass. All the energy he'd had when he bounced down the hill just a few seconds ago seems to have deserted him, and he wants nothing more than to sit down among the heather and give up. 

"What did I do?" He asks. 

Albus looks at him for a moment, then shakes his head. "Nothing." He beckons with his shoulder, hands still buried in his pockets. "Come on. I'd like to try and finish this trail before it gets dark." 

They end up reaching the coast after sunset, their lit wands bathing the rocky path in silver light. It's freezing cold, and even the beautiful sight of the sparkling stars and moon over the black expanse of the sea can't improve Scorpius's mood. He's shivering and exhausted and miserable, and just wants to go somewhere with a warm fire and a bed. He wants to curl up with Albus and read a book, or do some studying for school. All of a sudden he desperately misses the Slytherin common room, and he wishes he were there, in an armchair by the fire, with nothing to worry about but his N.E.W.T.s.

He wobbles on his feet, unsteady in his tiredness, and just when he thinks he's about to fall, Albus's warm hand closes around his. 

"Come on, we need to get you home." 

Scorpius nods and leans against him. Albus brushes a kiss to his cheek, squeezes his hand, and they twist sideways into nothingness.

They end up back in the bothy on Islay. The second they arrive, Albus gets the fire started, and Scorpius casts lights around the inside of the hut to chase out the darkness. They eat leftover sausages, then sit together on the bed, Scorpius reading through the Moramortia potion recipe while Albus crosses off the areas they've covered on his map. 

It isn't long before Scorpius's eyes are flickering closed, and he can do nothing but slide down inside the sleeping bag. Albus strokes his hair, curling the long strands around his fingers, and Scorpius smiles. 

"I need to get it cut," he mumbles. 

"Maybe. It looks nice like this. If it gets much longer you'll be able to put it in a ponytail, like your dad does." 

"Exactly. I need to get it cut." 

Albus laughs and tosses the map onto the floor, slipping down next to Scorpius. He wraps an arm around his waist and looks at him, eyes glittering like real emeralds in the dying firelight. 

"We're okay," Scorpius murmurs, thinking of how Albus wouldn't hold his hand earlier, and how he still doesn't really understand why. He's too tired to work out whether it's a question, or an assertion, or what response he expects, but it's reassuring when Albus nods.

"Of course we are. Just as long as you're okay." 

"Good," Scorpius whispers, and he falls asleep feeling warm and content. 

The next morning, Scorpius wakes up in intense pain again. The only difference from the morning before is that this time Albus is there to see everything. 

Scorpius is curled around Albus, clinging to him like a limpet, and as he gains consciousness he feels the awful burning pain ignite in his chest and spread like wildfire through his body. He gives an involuntary, strangled groan, somehow manages to unlock his limbs from around Albus, and rolls onto his side, retching from how much it hurts. His fingers clutch at the fabric of the sleeping bag, and Albus sits up next to him. 

"Albus," he whimpers. 

"Are you okay?" Albus asks. 

All Scorpius can do in response is to shake his head.

He hears Albus scrabbling around, feels cold air hit him as the sleeping bag is pulled away, then Albus scrambles over the top of him and hits the floor with a soft thump. He kneels in front of Scorpius, face looming large and concerned, maybe even afraid, right in front of Scorpius's eyes. 

"What's wrong?" He asks. "What do I do? What do you need?" 

"Potion," Scorpius gasps, as a dagger of white hot pain shoots through his heart. 

"Right!" Albus's face disappears, and Scorpius squeezes his eyes tight shut, clutching his chest. He wishes he could rip his heart out to make the pain stop. His heart, his lungs, his ribs, just make them all go away. He can't breathe anymore. It comes in snatches and gasps, because if he draws in a proper lungful of air it feels like all his bones have been shattered into pieces. 

"Please," he groans. "Quick." 

Albus swears, and there's the sound of clinking bottles and panicked muttering. 

The edges of Scorpius's world are going fuzzy, and he's not sure if what's coming is unconsciousness or death, but he does know that whatever it is it'll be a relief, because the pain will be gone. 

"Here," Albus says, from somewhere very distant. "Come on, sit up." 

Scorpius wants to obey, because it's Albus asking him to do it, but he can't. His whole body feels like it's made of shards of glass, and he's not sure where the pain ends and the rest of the world begins. Maybe there is no beginning or ending. Maybe this is all there is now. Maybe this is it. 

Hands lift his head up, and fingers fumble to part his lips. Liquid dribbles down his chin, and Albus's disembodied voice curses. The hands move his head around, and this time liquid fills his mouth. He doesn't understand, and he coughs and splutters, feeling like he's going to drown. 

"Drink," Albus says, and he sounds the way he does when he's upset, when he's had a fight with his dad, or with James, and he's trying to pretend he's not crying even though he is. It's not a nice sound, and if the only way to make him sound happier is to swallow then that's what Scorpius will do. 

Potion trickles down his throat, soothing and cooling. The world starts to redefine itself. 

A hard bed, slippery sleeping bag fabric over his feet, grey early morning light, the pattering of rain on the window. There's spilled potion on his shirt, cold and wet, making it cling his skin. Albus is sitting in a huddle on the floor, knees against his chest, head bowed, tears staining his cheeks. 

Scorpius blinks at him. 

Albus wipes his face on his sleeve and sniffs. "I didn't think you were going to-" He shakes his head. Bathilda has fallen off the bed, and he picks her up and messes with her wings. 

"I'm okay," Scorpius says. His voice sounds raw and shaky, and he wonders if he was thrashing around or screaming. He doesn't know what just happened. 

"That was my fault," Albus says, staring down at Bathilda. "You were hugging me, and then you..." He makes a twitchy little gesture with his hand, then he gets to his feet, picking up the empty potion bottle. "We're staying here today." 

Scorpius's whole body feels like it's been screwed up into a little ball, cramped and aching, muscles tight, but he sits up, ignoring the way it's screaming in protest. "Excuse me?" 

"We're staying here," Albus repeats, without looking at him. "You need to rest. You're not in a fit state to go anywhere."

Scorpius swings his feet out of bed. "I already wasn't in a fit state to go anywhere, that's sort of why I was in hospital, Albus, but here we are." He gets up, one hand on the bed post for support. "How do you expect me to get better if we just sit here all day?" 

"Fine," Albus says, picking his coat up. "Then I'll go. But you're staying in bed." 

"No," Scorpius says, sticking his feet into his shoes, hopping on one foot and nearly falling flat on his face as he struggles to jam the backs of them over his heels. "I don't think I am." 

"Get back into bed!" Albus's voice rises, and he sounds and looks every inch his dad. Small and slight and tightly wound with frustration and worry. 

Scorpius draws himself up tall and pulls his own coat round himself. "No," he says coolly. "We're going looking for Fawkes-"

" _We_ aren't doing anything," Albus insists. 

"Because if we don't," Scorpius continues, "all that will happen is that I'll get worse."

"Not if you just-" 

He ploughs on. "And if I get worse, then I'm going to-" 

"Okay!" Albus shouts. The word rings through the hut, and Scorpius is glad it does, because he didn't really want to finish that sentence. 

Albus takes a shaky breath and glances back at him, then looks away again. 

"Okay. Let's go."

It pelts down with rain all day. They both retreat under their hoods and walk separately, not speaking, shoulders hunched. It takes Albus five goes to cast an Impervius Charm over his map, and he gets more and more irritable as the lines he'd spent last night inking onto it start to run and blur. Scorpius doesn't offer to help. For one thing, he knows Albus will just get grumpy with him, and for another, he's not in the mood to do anything for Albus right now. 

The rain soaks his fringe, and it drips down his face, icy cold. His nose starts to run, and he sneezes more than once. It's too cold to take his hands out of his pockets, especially since his gloves are sodden, so he just licks the water away with the tip of his tongue and keeps walking. 

Within a couple of hours he feels like he's going to pass out from exhaustion. His legs are achy and splattered with mud, and the water has soaked into them. Water has soaked into everything. His shoes, his socks, even through his coat, which is meant to have a Waterproofing Charm cast on it. 

However tired he feels though, he's not going to give in. He's not going to let Albus win this one. If he stops now he'll just prove Albus right. And Albus never needs to be proven right about anything. So he just digs in, even though every step make his feet feel more and more bruised, and even though his legs shake, and the pain building back up in his chest makes it difficult to breathe. 

They don't see so much as a tiny glimpse of Fawkes all day. In fact, they don't see much of anything aside from heavy sheets of rain, that douse the hillside, making it boggy and slippery underfoot. All the other people and animals on the island seem to have the sense to stay inside, and part of Scorpius wishes he'd listened to Albus and that they'd stayed curled up in the bothy all day. But another part of him is glad that they're out here doing something. This might be futile, but it's better than sitting and waiting for the illness to take control.

When they get back to the bothy that night, Scorpius has never felt colder. Even those awful twenty-four hours sitting in the freezing cold street at Godric's Hollow, with the snow settling all around them, didn't feel like this. He'd been well then, and Albus had snuggled up next to him and they'd kept each other warm. Tonight he has none of that comfort.

He strips off his soaking clothes and digs through Albus's backpack for some dry ones, shuddering so hard he almost can't control his arms, teeth chattering, a mess of goosebumps. He throws on his pyjamas, a jumper, and then one of Albus's jumpers too, for good measure. He waves his wand over his hair to dry it out, then he tucks his hands up inside the sleeves of the jumpers, hugs himself, and turns to crawl into his sleeping bag. 

He can't get to the bed because Albus is in his way. He's leaning over, head ducked so he doesn't hit it on the bottom of the top bunk, and he's messing with the sleeping bags. 

Scorpius sighs. "What are you doing?" He asks in a voice that he hopes sounds impatient and bored. It's the first thing he's said to Albus since lunchtime when he had to ask for extra sugar for his tea. 

"Taking my sleeping bag," Albus replies without looking round. He finishes unzipping it from Scorpius's and turns round, hugging it against his chest like a shield, avoiding Scorpius's eyes. 

"Okay," Scorpius says slowly. "And why are you doing that when it's freezing cold and the only way we're going to stay warm is by huddling together?" 

"You have a blanket," Albus says, avoiding the question. "You'll be fine. I'll cast another Warming Charm over you if you need it."

"I can cast my own Warming Charm, thanks," Scorpius snaps. 

"Fine," Albus retorts. "Great. Then you don't need me anymore, do you?" He gathers up the trailing end of his sleeping bag and stalks past Scorpius, knocking their shoulders together as he passes. 

Scorpius whips round and glares at him. "What in Merlin's name was that for?" 

Albus shrugs. "You were in the way." He starts messing with zips and making his bed, but he seems aware that Scorpius is staring at him, because after a moment he says: "Go to bed, Scorpius. You look frozen. Anyway, it'll be more comfortable now. I won't be in your way." 

Scorpius blinks at him in astonishment. "More comfortable? I was perfectly comfortable last night."

"Yes, but you weren't comfortable this morning, were you?" Albus looks up at him, green eyes flashing in the light, as hard and cold as the mossy boulders littering the shoreline outside the front door. They hold each other's gaze for barely a moment, then Albus turns away and claws his way inside his sleeping bag, zipping it shut behind him, and pulling it over his head. 

Apparently the conversation is over. 

Scorpius stares at the lump that is Albus, buried beneath the red and blue fabric, only recognisable by the little tuft of black hair sticking out, then he shakes his head and turns away. If Albus is going to be like this then it isn't worth talking to him anyway. 

Shivering, Scorpius picks one of his books out of Albus's backpack and crawls into his sleeping bag. He's careful to keep his back to Albus, and he pulls the sleeping bag around him into a cocoon, so he's completely covered, lost in his own dark little cave of misery. 

He draws his wand and lights it, trying to make his angry brain shut up so he can concentrate on the words on the page in front of him. It's one of the books McGonagall had recommended to him, when he'd burned through all the work she'd set him one week. 

There's something comforting about reading books that might be useful for his exams, and for his later career. Thinking about things beyond the end of the next few weeks feels positive; optimistic. It feels like a statement to the world, and to himself, that he still expects to have a future. That no matter how bleak things look, he's going to find a way to keep going. 

He can survive this. He will survive this. And if the whole thing is too much for Albus, then he'll do it on his own. He doesn't have time for stupid arguments. Maybe he's relied on Albus for the last six and a half years, maybe Albus has been his strength, his best friend and confidant and soul mate and whatever else. But if he has to find a way to go on without him then he will. He's done it once before, and there was a time before Albus. He's never contemplated the idea of a time after Albus, but maybe this is when he needs to start. 

He stares blankly down at the pages of his book, and feels like the world is collapsing in on itself. Everything narrows in to a black tunnel of worry, and something that for once isn't his illness gnaws away inside his chest.

What would he do without Albus? He'd have to just keep searching for Fawkes. Maybe he can wait here and send a letter to Rose, ask her to do some research. There must be a spell for finding creatures. And then after that... they didn't really have a plan anyway, so it won't be too hard to adapt to being on his own. He'll be able to go anywhere, do anything, without having to argue over it. 

But there's the fact that Albus is his best friend. Scorpius loves him. Needs him. It might not even be possible to finish the potion without him. It has to be drunk in the presence of the person who loves Scorpius the most after all. 

Scorpius gives a little huff as he remembers that last line of the recipe. Stupid. Irritating. Having to rely on someone else when he should be able to stand on his own two feet and save himself. Why does Albus have to be his salvation? And besides, the way he's acting right now, Albus doesn't seem to love him at all. So maybe it can be someone else. Maybe it _should_ be someone else. Rose, maybe. Or his dad. 

His dad. 

Scorpius misses his dad so much that it hurts. Among the exhaustion and mess of emotions, he hasn't had much time to think about his dad. Not since the shock of hearing from Rose that he'd found out about the illness and the cure. But now, as the image of his dad's face, of the soft, bright grey eyes that have made Scorpius feel so loved and so cared for over the past few years, floats to the front of his mind, he feels an overwhelming urge to just go back to the Manor. To talk to his dad. To ask for help and reassurance. To get unconditionally warm hugs, and good food. To go home. 

A tear sploshes down onto the page of his book, and as he blinks, a couple more dribble down his cheeks and drip off his nose and chin. He sniffs and brushes them away. 

There's parchment in the bag, and the quill he'd packed. It would be so easy to write a letter to his dad. He wouldn't even need to send it. Or maybe he could Owl it to Rose somehow, and ask her to send it for him. Or maybe he should ask her to keep it, as a record of his adventure, just in case he doesn't manage to tell his dad about it in person. 

He crawls out of his sleeping bag and tiptoes across to Albus's backpack, where he shoves his book away and pulls the quill and parchment out. Then he sits down on the floor in front of the fire and starts to write. 

_Dear Dad,_

_I just wanted to let you know that I'm still alive. Things are okay. Not great, but okay._

_We're up in Scotland, in the Hebrides. It's very cold and there's a lot of rain. It's not much different to the weather we get at Hogwarts really._

_I haven't seen any dragons yet, which is a shame because I know they live around here. We haven't seen Fawkes either, which is even worse because he's the reason we're here._

_Rose told me you found out about the potion, and my illness. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, but I didn't know if you would believe it, and I didn't think you'd let me go on my own to find the ingredients. I knew that I had to do this even though you wouldn't approve, and I'm sorry for that, but it's important. I want to have tried, even if I end up failing, because I really don't want to die, and I think everyone deserves the chance to try and find a cure for their illness. I know you and Mum tried for years, even though there wasn't a cure for her. But the cure does exist for me so I have to try, because I don't want to leave you. And I don't really want to leave Albus either._

_He's being difficult, Dad. I love him so much, and I think he's trying to protect me, but he's being really weird and not talking to me properly. We had a fight. It feels horrible fighting with my best friend, but sometimes he's so stubborn that it's impossible not to. Did you ever fight with Mum? I guess it's something everyone does, but it's so difficult. Especially now when things were already so difficult._

_I want to fix things with him. I_ will _fix them. I have to. And then when this is all over I'll bring him home safe to Harry and Ginny. Or maybe he'll come back safe on his own... I hope not though. I want us to come back together._

_I miss you a lot. I really am sorry for running away. I hope I see you soon._

_Love,_

_Scorpius._

He wipes his nose on his sleeve as he reads through what he's written. It looks fine, and since his dad hopefully won't have to read it anyway, it doesn't really matter what it says. Just the act of writing it all down makes him feel better, and now that he feels a tiny bit better, he really needs to sleep. Exhaustion is creeping into his body and his eyes are starting to close again. 

He folds the letter and tucks it inside his book, then he looks up and around at the room. The dying firelight sends the whitewashed walls a dim red, and casts long shadows around the room. Everything is quiet, just the occasional crackle of a log, the spattering of drizzle on the window pain, the whistle of the wind, and a soft sniffling coming from within Albus's sleeping bag. 

With a jolt, Scorpius realises that he's crying. 

Albus cries so rarely, and when he does he usually manages to hide it well. It's easy to imagine he never cries at all, but clearly he does. He must think he's hidden now, curled up beneath a thick layer of fabric, with Scorpius already asleep. But Scorpius isn't asleep. He's standing right here, hearing everything. And normally if this happened he'd slide into bed next to Albus and hug him and stroke his hair. But somehow he doesn't think he'd be very well received right now. 

He takes a step forward, opening his mouth to whisper Albus's name, but he catches himself, biting his lip and picking at his sleeves. Not tonight. They don't need another argument tonight, and this would probably cause one. It's probably better to just let him be. 

Turning his back and walking away feels like the worst thing in the world. Scorpius ends up lying on his side, buried under his blankets, listening as Albus's quiet sobs turn gradually into snuffling snores. It takes Scorpius a very long time to fall asleep after that, and when he does, he doesn't sleep well at all.

He wakes after what feels like only an hour or two of sleep. He's spent more time tossing and turning than he has unconscious. But he isn't in intense pain, and that might be the only good thing about being awake. 

He sticks an experimental hand out of his sleeping bag and immediately pulls it back in again. The air is the coldest it's been yet, an unrelenting sheet of ice. He can't see any possible reason in the universe why he should get out of his warm bed if that's what he'll have to endure when he does. 

To make matters worse, he can hear Albus stumbling round the room, muttering to himself. His words hiss and spit, too low to be made out, so he just sounds like a particularly irritable snake. It makes Scorpius feel stressed and on edge. This is going to be a very long day. 

He fumbles around for his wand and casts the strongest Warming Charm over himself that he muster. It's still only just enough to stop him shrieking as he wriggles free of his sleeping bag and the cold air hits him. He falls onto the floor, gasps, and starts riffling through Albus's backpack as fast as he can when he's shivering all over. Albus doesn't help him. He's gone all tight and tense again, and he turns his back to look out of the window. 

Teeth chattering, Scorpius hauls his clothes on and jams his freezing toes into a pair of socks. When he's done getting dressed, he wraps his arms round himself and goes to stand beside Albus by the window. 

Albus glances at him. "You're not in pain this morning." 

Scorpius swallows. "No. I'm not." He pauses, not sure what to say next. There are a thousand things he wants to say. To ask if Albus is okay, to talk about how he was crying last night, to insist that the lack of pain has nothing to do with him. But his mouth is all dry and it feels too difficult, so he just twists his fingers together and gestures outside. "I think it's going to be a nice day." 

Albus's eyes narrow and he turns to grab his coat. "It's going to be frosty. Wrap up warm." 

Scorpius sighs and pulls his own coat on, shoulders slumping, silently vowing to say something later. 

Albus was right, it is frosty outside. A glittering sheen of white covers everything. Down on the beach, there's cracked ice along the shoreline, and the pebbles have frozen together. When the two of them Apparate onto Jura, the heather crunches underfoot where ice crystals have formed. Overhead the sun shines, golden and bright out of the clear blue sky, but there's no power or warmth to it. The air is crisp and biting, and Scorpius zips his jacket right up to his neck. The tips of his ears, fingers, and toes are already starting to go numb, and his breath mists in the air when he blows on his hands to thaw them out. 

It's their third day of exhausting, demoralising walking, and it's starting to hurt. Scorpius's legs tire a lot quicker today. After only an hour he feels ready to sit down on the ground and give up. It feels as though they've been everywhere on this stupid little island – up every hill, across every windswept moor, through every bog – and still there's no sign of Fawkes. Maybe this whole trip is futile. Maybe Dumbledore was right to warn them they might not find anything. 

Every step feels like a new bit of torture. His shoes aren't made for this sort of walking. He can feel every pebble through the soles, and even though he'd cast several spells on them last night, they're still just a little bit damp. 

There's a blister on his heel, and another on his little toe, and they both keep rubbing and aching, getting worse and worse until he can barely bring himself to put his feet down for another step. And to make everything worse, his chest is starting to ache again. 

It's obvious what's causing it. Albus is striding up ahead, map in hand, staring around at the landscape. The wind is ruffling his hair, sending it all over the place, and he's bathed in sunlight. 

Instead of focusing on looking for any sign of the Phoenix, all Scorpius can do is gaze up at him and think about all the hundreds of things he wants to say, all the ideas for how he might fix this. Because it needs doing. Something needs saying. They love each other and have for years, and it hasn't stopped now, and it isn't going to stop. 

From years ago, Delphi's words come floating back to him: "Albus needs you, Scorpius. That's a wonderful thing... Find him, Scorpius – you two belong together". 

They need each other even more now than they ever have. Scorpius is pretty sure he's not alone in thinking that. This is awful for him – the pain, being afraid of how things are going to turn out – and he needs Albus's support, that reliable hand to hold. But this isn't easy for Albus either. Running away, wanting to help, trying to save Scorpius, but being part of the reason he's sick... 

Scorpius isn't unhappy that Albus makes him feel worse. Of course he'd rather there were no pain at all. But if he had to choose anyone in the world to make him feel this awful, he would choose Albus. Because he loves Albus with all his heart and soul and won't ever stop loving him. 

Albus, who is his frustrating, sarcastic, stubborn, spontaneous best friend. Albus who saw past his name when they were eleven years old. Albus who's led him into so much trouble, but taught him how to be brave, how to keep fighting and never give up. Albus who is a nightmare and a dream all rolled into one. Albus who is prickly and difficult and affectionate and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Albus who is one of the two people that Scorpius would want saving his life if he could choose. 

Not loving Albus would be like the sun dying in the sky, or like all the magic draining from the world. It would be death, in a far more comprehensive way than this stupid illness would. It would be like taking his heart from his chest and hurling it down this mountainside into the sea, then trying to walk away and keep living. Impossible. 

He stares up at Albus, above him on the hill, and for a long moment he just takes him in. Then, he starts to run. 

"Albus!" He shouts, breath coming in gasps. He's not built for running up hills, it's not something he does regularly; especially not now when he's weak and ill.

Albus turns round and blinks at him. "What are you doing?" He calls. 

"I love you!" Scorpius crows up at him, a grin splitting across his face. 

Albus folds his arms. "I don't think you should-" 

"I love you," Scorpius repeats, and it hurts like hell, but it feels good to say. 

He's level with Albus now, but he can't stay upright anymore. His legs have given up, and he sinks onto the frozen-solid ground, the heather barely cushioning his fall. He presses a hand to his heart and gazes up into Albus's bemused face. 

"I'm not... going to stop saying it," he pants, lungs tight, cold air sharp and painful as he snatches it in. 

"Well maybe you should," Albus says, crouching down next to him. "It's not good for your health. We're supposed to be making you better, not worse." 

Scorpius shakes his head. "You don't... understand. Not saying it... _will_ make it... worse." 

"You have an illness where expressions of love slowly kill you but by bit," Albus says patiently, like he's explaining something complicated to a small child. "And you think that not saying you love me will make you worse?" 

Scorpius nods. "Because I need you. I'm going to need you until the day I die, whether that's tomorrow or in ninety years. And I want you to know that." He looks into Albus's eyes, ignoring how closed off his expression has become. "If I don't fight for you, then I might as well give up on everything. Because if I can't keep fighting for one of the most important people in my life, then what can I fight for? And besides, you said it once yourself. We make each other stronger. I don't think I could do this," he gestures to the landscape around them, which is still glittering with frost even in the noonday sun, "without you helping me. I needed you when I had to save the world, and I definitely need you now I have to save myself." 

Albus looks away from him and shakes his head. "No. You're wrong." He picks at a bit of grass and stares down at the frosty ground. "You've always been stronger than me, you know, braver. You don't need me for that. And..." he swallows and twists the bit of grass into knots between his fingers before finally looking up. "Scorpius, I don't want to be the reason you die. I thought I could do it, but I can't. I can't just pretend everything's normal when every time you hold my hand it makes you hurt, and every time we kiss your heart might just stop. This world needs you, and I don't want to be the reason you don't have a future." 

"My heart was always going to stop whenever you kissed me," Scorpius says with a grin, but when he catches Albus's look, he bows his head and the smile fades. "Sorry." 

"It's not a joke to me," Albus murmurs. 

"No." Scorpius crosses his legs and curls up small, rubbing his hand against his chest which still feels like it's on fire. "You know you don't have to do this, right? I know you said you wanted to, but you can leave. If it's too hard, if you don't want to hurt me. I can send you Owls. You can tell my dad I'm alive. You don't have to stay, Albus." 

Albus's jaw tightens and his expression goes hard. It's not cold though. He isn't shutting down. Instead, when he looks at Scorpius his eyes are blazing with pure determination. His hands ball into fists, and Scorpius can tell he's digging his heels in and preparing for a fight. 

"Yes, I do. I said I'd help and I'm going to. I'm not abandoning you, because I can't. I love you too, Scorpius, so I'm staying. I'm staying and I'm going to help make you better." He swallows. "Even if it kills both of us." He glares at Scorpius, apparently expecting some sort of resistance, but Scorpius just nods. 

"Okay. So we're agreed here. I want you to stay and you want to stay." 

"Yes," Albus says. 

"Perfect," Scorpius says. "But if you're staying then I have a condition. We're doing this on my terms. And if you can't agree to it then you'll have to leave, okay?" 

"Go on," Albus says, fists clenching tighter. 

"This is my adventure," Scorpius says, looking him right in the eye. "It's my disease, and we're going to fight it my way. And maybe it'll kill me, but I'm not going to give in. I'm not letting it beat me – beat us. I don't think it's the sort of thing my mum would have done, and it's not what I'm going to do either. She kept living her life the way she wanted to until the day she died and I'm going to do the same. And this is it." He gestures between them. "This is the life I want right now. You and me, doing this together." 

Albus opens his mouth to say something, but Scorpius plunges on, not giving him a second to chip in. 

"You're not going to be what kills me. If I die it's because of this illness. It's not fair that it affects me most when I'm around you, it's not fair on either of us, but you can't blame yourself and you can't hold back. Okay? I don't want that. That's not the way I want to end up." 

Albus looks away, and in the sunlight his eyes sparkle like the frost on the ground around them, just glazed with tears instead of ice. He sniffs and wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve, and for a long time there's silence. 

With each second that passes, Scorpius expects him to get up and start walking away, for him to take his things and vanish into thin air and never come back. It's not the sort of thing Albus would do lightly, but maybe he will choose to spare Scorpius the pain. Maybe he'll go home and help from afar, instead of sticking here with him where everything is so much more real and hurts so much more. 

And just when Scorpius is about to snap at him to say something, because he can't stand it anymore, Albus reaches out and takes his hand. 

He looks up at Scorpius, gaze bright and watery and afraid, and he squeezes his fingers. "I'm not going anywhere." 

Relief washes through Scorpius from head to toe, like surfacing from deep water and sucking in the first lungful of air. All the tension in his body releases, and he throws himself across the space between them and hugs Albus as hard as he can. Then he kisses him for good measure, because if he's going to do this he might as well do it properly. 

Pain blossoms in his chest, and his vision blurs, and the world spins around him, but he doesn't care, because he has Albus back. And that's all he needs to hold onto.

For a minute after that, all he knows in the world is pain. He can't think or feel. He doesn't know where he is. It's just white hot agony, to the point where the kiss almost wasn't worth it. But for Albus, anything and everything is worth giving, even this. 

When the world swims back into focus, Scorpius finds himself lying down, staring up at the clear blue sky. He can feel Albus's fingers brushing through his hair, and he slowly realises that his head is resting in Albus's lap. He blinks twice and shifts his head, and finally sees Albus gazing down at him. 

"Hi," he says, flashing Albus a shaky little smile. 

Albus looks down at him, and his expression is serious, but his eyes are sparkling with a hint of amusement, just enough to show that he isn't really upset. "I'll stay," he says, almost smiling. "As long as you promise not to be _that_ stupid again."

Scorpius grins at him. "I'll try." 

Albus rolls his eyes. "You're ridiculous. Lovely, but ridiculous." 

"Thanks." Scorpius rolls out of Albus's lap and props himself up on one elbow. "Is there potion anywhere? That wasn't the best idea I've ever had." 

"No, it wasn't." Albus digs a bottle of potion out of his backpack and hands it to him. "Are you going to be alright to carry on?" 

Scorpius gulps down half the bottle, then looks up the hill they've stopped on the slopes of. "I don't know. We've been walking for three days..." He turns to Albus, not wanting to admit defeat, but needing Albus to understand that he feels as though another step today might finish him off. 

"You've been struggling all this time and you didn't say anything?" Albus asks, exasperated. 

Scorpius shrugs and takes another sip of his potion. "I didn't want to make things worse."

Albus tuts. "Can we agree to start talking again? If only so I don't take you on a route march when you're half dead." He reaches out and curls a bit of Scorpius's hair round his finger. 

Scorpius gives a small smile and nods, finishing the last of his potion and already feeling considerably better. "I promise."

"Good." Albus gets to his feet. "We're going home. Don't argue. We're going to the bothy, and you're going to rest. Tomorrow we can get back to this." He gestures around them. "I'm going to look at the map and restrategise. It'll be a fresh start. Does that sound good?" 

"That does sound good." Scorpius reaches a hand up to Albus. "Now help me off the ground? It's freezing down here." 


	11. A Nice Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco visit Malfoy Manor to set up a trap for the boys. Meanwhile, Albus and Scorpius have a snowball fight, meet some baby dragons, and continue their search for Fawkes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big love and Hufflepuff hugs to all the wonderful people who comment on/liveblog this fic. Your thoughts (and tears) bring me a lot of joy, and you're all awesome.

"Seven Basilisk Teeth, crushed," Draco recites, pacing across the Potters' kitchen.

"They have those," Harry says, studying the crumpled piece of paper that's lying on the table in front of him. 

"One vial of Phoenix Tears," Draco continues, ticking them off on his fingers. "A single memory of love. A single bottle of Love Potion." 

Harry shakes his head. "They could make that themselves. I'm sure Albus would know how to make a love potion; Scorpius too. It would take time, but they could do it." 

"Would they have the ingredients?" Draco asks, glancing at him. 

Harry sighs. "They left you a note. They've been planning this. Of course they'd have the ingredients." The hint of frustration and impatience in his voice is enough to set Draco on edge. 

"It was just a thought," he snaps. "I'm trying to think here. And I don't know why you're so upset. Your son isn't in danger this time. He'll come home at the end of this in one piece. Alive, unscathed, with his whole future ahead of him. While my son-" He breaks off, choking on the words. He turns his back on Harry and looks out of the kitchen window into the dark, cold night. "Scorpius might not." 

"It's not safe for either of them," Harry murmurs. "There have been all those Werewolf attacks in Wales. And the Grindylows up in Scotland. There was a Dementor sighting in Yorkshire the other day, and-" 

"That's really comforting," Draco says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I appreciate the emotional support." He turns back to Harry and slides the parchment away from him. "The remnants of a sacrifice." 

Harry runs a hand through his hair, making it stick right up on end, even worse than usual. "I can only think of a couple of those." 

"Any Scorpius would know about?" Draco asks, glancing at him. 

Harry meets his eyes. "Do you think he would go to Godric's Hollow? We were all there. We all saw it. What my mum did... Do you think he might consider that? Or do you think Albus might?" 

Draco nods, and he hasn't felt this certain in hours. Now the idea has been spelled out for him it seems obvious, and as much as he doesn't want to give Harry credit... He might be onto something here. "I think it's likely. I think it's very likely. As much as it pains me to admit it, you've been Scorpius's hero since he first heard your name. If he were going to go anywhere it would be somewhere to do with you..." He folds the parchment up and runs his fingers along the crease, sharpening it. "Is there anything there they could take?"

Harry shrugs and gets to his feet. "It depends what the recipe means by remnants. There are still bits of the house. There's probably dust and debris. If they could take a chunk of wood or something... It wouldn't be easy to stop them taking things – I don't even know if you _want_ to stop them getting the ingredients. But we could intercept them. There aren't many ways into Godric's Hollow. We could get the Aurors covering the house. Let them pick up what they need, and then catch them on the way out." Harry looks at Draco. 

Draco can feel Harry's gaze on him, intent and focused with determination. His energy level has picked up in an instant, and he's buzzing now, raring to go. The problem is it's just a little bit distracting. It makes it a little bit harder to think straight. Harry's opinion is so clear, that it's not easy for Draco to think through his own. 

Of course it makes sense to pick them up and get them to safety. And if this potion is the only thing that will keep Scorpius alive then it makes sense to let them get the ingredients first. But what if they don't go to Godric's Hollow? And Aurors can't see through invisibility cloaks any more than anyone else can. This plan isn't infallible, but if they can have a back up... The more nets there are for the boys to try and slip through, the less likely they are to escape. 

"Scorpius's old wand was made of willow wood," he says, meeting Harry's eyes. "The last item on the list, two pieces of willow wood."

Harry blinks at him, expression brightening even more. "Did he keep it?" 

Draco nods. "When he got back to school after everything that happened, he went to the Owlery and collected the pieces. He used to keep them in a drawer in his room. I don't know if they're still there, but-"

"It's a chance," Harry says, eyes shining. "Which brings us up to a grand total of two chances. I can get the Aurors in position, and we can go to the Manor and see if the shards are still there. We can leave a spell on them, to tell us if anyone touches them. I'll make it undetectable. We'll find them, Draco. We'll bring Scorpius home." 

"And if the shards aren't there?" Draco asks. "We'll be back down to just one chance again." 

"No we won't," Harry says confidently. "That last line of the recipe. It has to be drunk in the presence of the person who loves the patient the most. That's you. They have to come home and find you." 

Draco doesn't nod. He curls the edge of the parchment round his finger and bows his head. He hopes Harry is right. If anyone loves Scorpius more than he does then it'll feel like a failure. And there's another problem too. Scorpius might not even make it long enough to come home and drink the potion. That might be too late. They can't wait that long. They can't rely on that. This has to be over before then. 

"Get the Aurors summoned," he says, still not looking at Harry. "Send them to Godric's Hollow. And then we can both go to the Manor." 

 

The night is beginning to brighten to a cold, grey pre-dawn when they arrive at the Manor. Draco climbs the front steps and stops in front of the door, which creaks slowly open. Inside, the house is cold and dark. He knows it'll be dusty, and it has a somewhat abandoned feel. They haven't been here for months. Every day has been spent at St Mungo's, and visits here have been brief and functional. It hasn't been truly lived in since October.

He stares in at the black foyer, cloaked in creeping shadows. The sun is rising slowly, but not enough to send light spilling in through the windows. Even the light from their lit wands doesn't percolate far beyond the doorway. The sweeping shape of the main staircase climbs through the darkness, flanked by the skeletons of the dried-out flowers that Draco hasn't had time to replace. 

He doesn't make any move to go into the house because the truth is that he doesn't want to be inside it. He especially doesn't want to go to Scorpius's room. All his best memories of this place are memories of Scorpius and Astoria. Just the idea of the place now, the corridors where Scorpius learned to walk, the windowsills where he'd sit and read in the sunshine, the music room and library where he and Astoria would sit and talk together for hours, it all hurts too much. And he doesn't need Harry to see that pain. 

But if it might help; if it might help protect Scorpius... A bit of pain now is nothing compared to the relief of having his son back with him, safe. 

"Come in," Draco says, trying to sound casual and polite, like Harry has come round for afternoon tea. 

"Thanks," Harry replies, and he follows Draco into the house. 

As they cross the threshold, the Manor recognises Draco's presence, and the lamps all around the foyer flare into life. Golden light floods the room, illuminating the cobwebs that have been spun between the bannister posts running up the stairs. Draco extinguishes his wand, then waves it to sweep the cobwebs away. Another flick removes some of the dust from the carpet, and a final one vanishes the dried up flowers. 

"Scorpius's room is upstairs," Draco says, gesturing upwards. 

Harry nods, Noxes his wand, and keeps pace with Draco as they walk up to the first floor. 

Scorpius's room is the neatest Draco has ever seen it. Usually, even when he's been asked to tidy it, it's strewn with clothes and books and spare parchment. There's normally at least one set of robes, an odd sock, and a jumper or two on the floor, but right now everything is clean and bare. The bed, with its Slytherin bedspread, is neatly made. The shelves are tidy, books all straight. It's so uncharacteristically uncluttered that Draco almost turns round and walks straight back out again, but he resists. He swallows and steps into the room. 

"He keeps important things down here," he says, trying not to look too much at anything as he crosses to the set of drawers beside the wardrobe and pulls the bottom one open. 

Behind him, Scorpius's bed creaks as Harry sits down on the edge of it. "He's a lot tidier than Albus." 

"No he isn't," Draco says. "You've seen their dorms at school. This place is usually a mess. You should be grateful that Albus is as tidy as he is. I think he's a good influence on Scorpius in that respect." 

"I'm glad there's something you think my son is useful for," Harry says, and the bed creaks again. Draco glances round to see him leaning forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. 

"There are plenty of reasons why I think Albus is a good influence on Scorpius," Draco says. "I just wish they'd run away less. If Albus were less impulsive, he'd be perfect. But I suppose he never stood a chance in that department, having you as a father." 

He starts sifting through the detritus in Scorpius's drawer. There are several peacock feather quills, some letters from Albus, the photo album that Albus had given him as a birthday present back in fifth year. 

There's a nature book that Scorpius and Astoria had made when Scorpius was little, full of pressed flowers and sketches. All the letters Astoria had left for him that he's received so far are neatly piled up together, along with a beautiful, ancient copy of _The Tales of Beedle The Bard_ that she'd given him, all wrapped up inside a silk bag that's enchanted to preserve the crumbling pages and cracked leather binding. 

And right at the bottom, beneath it all, are the broken halves of Scorpius's old wand. The willow wood is pale, with a bold, dark grain running around it. Where it's split, there's a bit of silvery unicorn hair poking out. The hair is unbroken, and seems to be the only thing connecting the two halves together. As Draco looks at it, he can see faint silver sparks crackling up and down the hair, like the wand is still struggling to do magic, still full of pent-up energy that will never be unleashed. 

As gently as he can, careful not to damage the wand any further, he lifts it out of the drawer and turns to Harry. 

"It's still here. I thought he'd have it with him, but... it's here." 

Harry gets up off the bed and comes over, crouching down beside Draco. "Do you think that's a good sign? If it's here will he come looking for it?" 

"How am I supposed to know that?" Draco asks, frustrated. "I don't know what he's doing, Potter. I don't know what he's thinking. If I knew for certain we wouldn't be in this mess." 

"Do you ever wish you knew him better?" Harry asks, gazing down at the broken bits of the wand.

"Is that supposed be an insult to my parenting?" Draco asks, looking up at him. "Because I hardly think you're in a position to judge my relationship with my son when you barely manage to keep up with who Albus is dating." 

Harry runs a hand through his hair. There's a bit at the back that's sticking bolt upright, and Draco dearly wishes it wouldn't. "It wasn't an insult," he says. "They're growing up. Albus seems to change every day. He's a mystery to me. There are things I think I know, but he doesn't talk to me, even now everything's better. He doesn't need me anymore. Sometimes I look at him and there's an adult there who I barely recognise." He shakes his head. "I still remember when he was tiny... One afternoon we couldn't find him anywhere, and we were terrified that something had happened to him. But in the end we found him sitting inside the hen house. He'd climbed in there and was sitting in the dark with straw in his hair and all these little chicks curled up in his lap. That's still how I expect him to be. But then I look at him, and he's Albus, he's in love with your son, and he wants to be an Auror, and I don't remember when he got so tall." 

Draco gently replaces the broken halves of Scorpius's wand in the drawer and looks around the room. "Astoria and I covered this house with Cushioning Charms when he first learned to walk. You've seen this place. My father filled it with sharp corners and hard surfaces, and expensive, breakable objects. It's not the sort of place you want a curious, accident-prone child."

Harry hesitates for a moment, staring into the drawer, then he glances at Draco. "Do you think we've done a bad job of protecting them?" He asks. "They've had more than their fair share of escapades. They had to save the world for us." 

Draco shakes his head. "No. Maybe we could have done better, but the world is a dangerous place. We can't cast Cushioning Charms to catch them if they fall forever. Anyway, Scorpius has been able to cast his own Cushioning Charms since he was twelve years old. He's remarkably good at them. I just hope it'll be enough." He looks at Harry. "All we can do is teach them how to look after themselves and then hope we did a good enough job. If we did then maybe we'll get them home safely. But even then... things happen, we know that as well as anyone." 

Harry sighs and draws his wand. "We do. I'd just rather none of those things happened to Albus. Or Scorpius." 

"I think it's too late for that. Scorpius is already sick. They're in this mess together. All we can do is hope they pull through." 

"The sooner we find them the better," Harry says. 

He points his wand into the drawer, aiming for the broken pieces of Scorpius's wand, and casts a spell that wraps around them, coating them in golden light for a moment, before the light seems to sink into the wood and the surrounding objects, like it's been absorbed in their very fabric. There's no sign that they've been touched, or that there's any spell on them. If Draco hadn't seen Harry cast it, he wouldn't have been able to tell without performing complicated magic of his own. 

"We'll know if they pick these up," Harry says, tucking his wand away again. "It's the best we've got." 

"That and your Aurors." 

Harry nods. "The Aurors should help. Now." He looks at Draco. "It's been a really long night. How do you feel about some breakfast?" 

Draco isn't hungry. He actually feels slightly sick. But he's so tired that he'll go along with anything, particularly if it's warm and comforting and will distract him. 

"As long as there's good quality tea." 

"We have tea bags," Harry says, getting to his feet. 

Draco pulls a face and gets up, nudging the drawer shut with his foot. "I think I'll go and get some of my loose-leaf from downstairs."

 

_Dear Dad,_

_I hope you're okay. I still miss you, but things are better here now._

_I've managed to stop Albus being an idiot and we're speaking again, which is nice. I told him that I didn't think Mum would have ever stopped living the way she wanted to because she was ill, and I'm not going to either. I think he understands now. I_

_don't know if I ever talked to you about that, about how I need to live my own life and not be deterred by being sick. How I need to keep fighting and existing just like she did. But you knew her, so I hope you understand that more easily than Albus did._

_I hope I can be as brave as she was. I'm trying my best. I hope I can make her proud, and you proud. I want to live up to what she did, her strength and courage, how she still had so much love to give despite all the pain. But I also really want to come home in one piece too. I want to see you again, Dad._

_I'm feeling good at the moment, and I'm certain we can do this. I had some blips, and it's been hard, but now Albus is back onside I think I'm going to be okay. We had a quiet day yesterday, because I was exhausted and really needed to rest. Albus's route marches were taking a lot out of me. But today, now I feel good again, we're going to get back to looking for Fawkes. I'm optimistic about it. No sightings yet, but we're going to the north of the island today. Albus said we might see some Kelpies! There's one that's rumoured to live in a whirlpool at the top of the island. There was a book about it on the shelf in the bothy we're staying in, and we read it together. There's some really fascinating history here. Maybe when I get better we should come here on holiday one time and do some real exploring._

_I'll keep you posted on our progress, although I really hope you never have to read these letters. I want to tell you all this myself when I see you again! Which I will. Soon. I hope._

_Love, Scorpius_

He's just signed his name with a flourish and is reading over what he's written, when Albus comes bursting back into the bothy, cheeks pink from the cold, bringing with him a swirl of frigid wind. 

Scorpius glares at him and pulls the blankets tighter around his body. "You're making it cold. Do you have to do that?" 

Albus slams the door shut behind him, and looks at Scorpius, eyes shining, a huge grin on his face, breathless and excited. "You have to get up right now." 

Scorpius looks around at the cosy nest he's made himself on the bottom bunk and shakes his head. "It warm here. What did you find? It isn't Fawkes, is it? Or food? I'll come if there's breakfast." 

Albus sighs. "Your stomach." He digs through his backpack for a moment and finds a Cauldron Cake, which he throws at Scorpius. "Breakfast." 

Scorpius fumbles it as he tries to catch it and it rolls onto the floor, just out of reach. "Albus..." he says, leaning off the side of the bed and swiping at it with his hand. "Please can you pick that up for me?" 

"No," Albus says. "You don't have time to eat that now anyway. You have to come and see the Merpeople." 

Scorpius falls out of bed and onto the floor with a crash. The sleeping bag and blankets tangle around his legs, Bathilda the Bat gets crushed beneath him, and his letter gets crumpled. He stares up at Albus in amazement. "Merpeople? There are Merpeople out there?" 

Albus nods. "In the sea. Come on."

Scorpius doesn't need telling twice. He wriggles free of the blankets and claws himself upright. "I need clothes," he says, looking around for them. "I can't go out in pyjamas. I'll freeze to death and my dad will kill me." 

Albus grins and throws a jumper, t-shirt, and pair of jeans at him. "Hurry up or they'll be gone." 

Two minutes later, the pair of them are packed up and standing outside the hut. It's a touch milder than the day before, but Scorpius is still shivering as he finishes winding his scarf around his neck. A thick blanket of grey cloud looms overhead, and the sea is the colour of iron without any sun shining on it. But despite how unwelcoming it looks, there's a group of young Merpeople floating among the boiling, foaming waves. 

"I don't think I've ever seen them in person before," Scorpius murmurs as he tucks the loose ends of his scarf inside his jacket. "Never through the windows at school... or when we were in the lake that time. This is amazing." 

Albus's gentle hand smooths down his back, presumably chasing a few creases away. "I told you that you should come outside."

Scorpius glances at him and smiles, nudging their shoulders together. "I suppose I should know by now that you're usually right." 

Albus smirks and shakes his head. "Not usually. Always."

"That is stretching the truth to breaking point," Scorpius says, but he leans comfortably against Albus's side and watches the Merpeople swim. 

One of the youngest ones, who can only be five or six years old, strays away from their older companions and starts swimming out to seat, tiny tail flipping, full of determination. 

Scorpius frowns. "Do you think that one is- _oh_." Just as he's about to ask Albus if the little Merperson is okay, a misty jet shoots up out of the water, and a gleaming grey back breaches the surface. It's an ordinary, non-magical whale, and swimming up beside the little Merperson, who seems perfectly happy with its presence. They stretch a hand out to pat its nose, and the whale nudges at them. 

Scorpius takes hold of Albus's hand and squeezes it tightly. "That's the cutest thing I've ever seen," he breathes. 

Albus smirks at him. "You're getting sentimental in your old age." 

Scorpius elbows him in the ribs. "You think it's cute too." 

"Maybe," Albus admits, nudging him back. 

They stand on the patch of grass in front of the bothy, hand in hand, and watch the little Merperson and the whale swimming together, until one of the older Merpeople realises what's going on and darts across to drag them away, back to the safety of the group. At that point, the whale sinks back beneath the ocean and out of sight, and Albus tugs gently on Scorpius's hand. 

"Come on. We should get going. You see that big mountain over there?" Albus points across the water, to one of the hills rising above the horizon, tall and imposing, the slopes shadowy and dark brown thanks to the cloudy day. 

Scorpius groans. "You're going to make me climb that? Really?" 

Albus grins at him. "No, I'm just teasing." And he tightens his grip on Scorpius's had and they swirl away into darkness. 

"Albus," Scorpius gasps as his feet hit solid ground again and the pressure on his lungs releases. "Severus. Potter. You're a terrible person. I hope you know that." 

"I'm very well aware." Albus reaches a hand out to help Scorpius up, and Scorpius leans all his weight in, so Albus ends up hauling him off the floor, face screwed up from the effort. "But you're not much better." 

Scorpius smiles and brushes himself off. He's covered in grey dust that's strewn all across the ground here. "So if we're not up a mountain, where are we?" 

"We're in the north west of the island," Albus says. "Near to where..." he trails off, looking around them, scanning the ground. "Scorpius?"

Scorpius trots over to him. "Yes, Albus?" 

"What would you say this grey stuff is?" He asks, gesturing at the ground, and at Scorpius's jeans. 

Scorpius frowns and looks around. The ground is covered so the grey substance, gathered in little mounds, and scattered between the tufts of dried, charred looking grass. "Dust?" He guesses, scuffing his toe through it. It puffs up, swirling in the wind, its consistency too fine for normal dust. "Or ash? The grass is sort of burned here. Maybe someone made a fire." He shrugs and brushes his hands off, more of the grey stuff dancing in the breeze. "Does it matter?" 

Albus nods, very serious, and stoops down to pick something up from the floor. He straightens up and holds it out for Scorpius to see, and Scorpius's eyes widen at the sight of the vivid red and gold feather. 

"Is that-" He breaks off, too amazed to speak. 

"A Phoenix feather," Albus says, and as he meets Scorpius's eyes, Scorpius sees that he's almost effervescent with excitement. Eyes gleaming, barely restraining a grin. He looks like he might explode from the joy of it, and Scorpius isn't sure of the last time he saw him this excited. "I think we've found Fawkes's nest." 

Scorpius looks around at the bare, burned patch of ground, filled with ash, and dotted with the occasional flame-bright feather. There's no mistaking the fact that this is definitely a Phoenix's nest. It just has to be. Although there's no way of knowing how recently it's been inhabited. Fawkes certainly isn't here right now. 

"Do you think we scared him away when we arrived?" Albus asks. He's now looking up, scanning the grey skies, but there's no sign of red and gold. "Maybe he disappeared; Phoenixes can do that can't they?"

"I think so," Scorpius says. He drops Albus's hand and starts pacing around the area. "Do you think he'll come back? Should we just wait here?"

Albus glances around. "I don't think we should just sit in the middle of his nest. What if we scare him? Maybe we should hide in those bushes instead?" He gestures to a clump of scraggly, low bushes at the edge of the ash strewn patch of land. They're quite small, but Scorpius guesses that if they curled up among them, they'd be almost invisible. 

"Me and Mum used to hide behind the bushes in our garden and watch the fairies at night," Scorpius says with a little smile. "Did you ever do things like that?" 

Albus pulls a face. "With James for a brother we were lucky to have anything in our garden. He spent all his time thumping around like an Erumpent." He sighs. "I remember Lily and Dad used to go and hunt for fairies in the orchard sometimes, but I never did. I used to leave food out for the Kneazles though. Mum and I would hide behind the Flutterby Bush and watch them. They used to bring their kittens with them in the spring." 

"I used to beg Dad to let me have a Kneazle," Scorpius says with a sigh. "But he's allergic, so he always said no." 

Albus grins. "Maybe when you're older and move out." 

Scorpius smiles back. "That's a good incentive to get this potion made." He sets off towards the bushes, hands dug deep in his pockets for warmth. "I hope you brought some tea! And we're going to need those blankets." 

 

It's not comfortable, curled up in the little bit of space between the bushes. The ground is hard, and covered with sharp rocks and twisted roots. They cast layers of Warming Charms around them, and try to thaw out the frost on the ground, but it's still miserable with the wind whipping through their hair. 

Albus pulls out the thermos of tea, and they both keep taking sips to stay warm. Scorpius cups his hands round his mug to keep them from feeling frozen. He's convinced his toes are going to get frostbite, and he tells Albus so. Albus tucks the blankets over Scorpius's feet, wraps both his arms round him, and buries his face against his neck. The soft ghosting of his breath makes Scorpius shiver, and he reaches back to ruffle his hair. 

"What are you doing?"

"Your neck's warm," Albus says, a bit muffled.

"Yes, I know. But your nose is freezing. It's like a little ice cube."

"Well I'm very sorry," Albus says. But he doesn't sound sorry at all, and he doesn't move, he just snuggles in closer, and soon his breathing slows to the point where Scorpius thinks he might have fallen asleep. It's unfair how Albus can sleep absolutely anywhere. It might be the skill Albus has that Scorpius is most jealous of.

"Albus," he whispers, twisting sideways to look at him. 

Albus mumbles something incoherent and tightens his grip on Scorpius, nuzzling closer. Scorpius smiles and reaches up to ruffle his hair, then he settles down to watch the nest. 

It's actually quite comfortable with Albus draped against him. Albus's body is as warm as any of the blankets, and his weight helps too. Despite the potions, it makes Scorpius's chest ache, being able to feel Albus's breathing and heartbeat; the little shivers they send up and down his spine, but it's worth it. This is what he wants. Albus, completely and without inhibition. This intimacy is how he always wants life with Albus to be. And if this is the way his life ends then he won't be even a tiny bit unhappy with how things have turned out. 

After about twenty minutes of sipping his tea and trying not to wriggle around too much in case he disturbs Albus, he glances up at the sky to check for any sign of the Phoenix, and realises that it's snowing. Big, fat white flakes are swirling out of the grey sky. They're already settling on the Phoenix nest, and clinging to the leaves of the bushes. There are snowflakes in Albus's hair, and Scorpius beams. If there's one thing he loves in this world it's the sight of Albus with snow in his hair. There's something beautiful about the fluffy flakes among the soft, dark curls. It's Christmas, and comfort, and friendship all rolled into one. Warmth even in the coldest places of the world. 

"Albus," Scorpius whispers, nudging him gently. "Albus, wake up." 

Albus groans and bats him away. "Sshh." 

Scorpius grins and presses his face close beside Albus's. His heart feels like it's being constricted as he does it, but he ignores that. "It's snowing. Wake up." 

"No," Albus mumbles. "Sleep is better than the cold." 

Scorpius kisses him, very gently on the lips, and that gets a reaction. Albus mumbles again, but it sounds a lot happier, and he smiles into it, fingers curling round Scorpius's wrist. When Scorpius pulls away, his eyes are open, and he looks blearily around.

"Oh. It _is_ snowing." He sits up a bit and holds a hand out, catching some of the flakes on his palm. "It's beautiful." 

Scorpius, who only has eyes for Albus, nods. "It is." 

"And," Albus says, turning back to him. "It's settling. Look." He brushes his fingers across the leaves of the bush nearest to them and scoops up a handful of snow. For a moment he shows it to Scorpius, then with a jerk of his hand, he throws the whole lot in Scorpius's face. 

Scorpius gasps and reels back. It's shockingly cold, almost painful on his cheeks, and he hurries to scrub it off. He ends up falling backwards onto the ground with a rustle of bushes, and wriggles to his knees and then to his feet. 

"Albus!" He says when he can speak again. "Why would you do that? You're- you're terrible!" 

Albus laughs. "My older brother has been a bad influence on me. Are you okay?"

Scorpius shakes his head. "No! No I'm not." He looks around and scrapes his own snowball from one of the bushes. He chucks it at Albus, and is gratified to see that some of it ends up going down the inside of Albus's jacket. 

"You really don't want to do that," Albus says, as Scorpius gathers a second handful of snow. 

"Oh yes I do," Scorpius says, crunching it up into a tight ball. 

Albus sighs and gets to his feet. He trails his fingers across the ground then sizes Scorpius up. They both glare at each other for a long moment, then they move as one, flinging their snowballs and diving for cover to prepare the next one. 

The next few minutes are filled with frozen fingers, snow hitting bare skin and thick wool, shrieking and breathless laughter, and insults hurled across their ash-strewn battle ground. Scorpius is aware that they're not encouraging Fawkes to come back by behaving like this, but he's having far too much fun to care. 

He draws his wand as he dances away from Albus behind a bush, and banishes a snowball back into Albus's face. "Come on, Potter. Is that really the best you've got?" 

Albus's expression has gone bright and blazing, full of determination, and he draws his own wand, sweeping it towards the ground and hurling a great pile of snow at Scorpius. Most of it ends up in the bush that Scorpius is crouched behind, but some ends up scattering through his hair. He shakes his head and pops up again, this time waving his wand through the air around him and making the snowflakes coalesce into a tight, spherical ball. 

It's one of the spells he's been learning in the hospital, but he's never had the chance to do it for himself. It feels delightful to be playing around with magic again. It feels like throwing open the doors to a dark and musty room, and letting sunlight and fresh air flood in. It feels like walking through a forest when it's just rained, and everything smells damp and earthy and fresh. It feels like coming home and curling up in his own bed after a long and difficult term away at school. It's joy and homecoming and new life, and while his body is aching, there's no way of telling if it's from the illness or from how hard he's laughing. 

With a flick of his wand he sends the snowball flying in Albus's direction. It misses him by inches, but Scorpius is already working to get the spell going again. Snowflakes swirl inwards towards him as he summons and shapes them. He draws in more and more, creating the biggest snowball he's ever made in his life, just because he can.

He's concentrating so hard that he barely hears the beat of approaching wings, but the vague part of his brain that registers the noise recognises that they're not Phoenix wings. They're far too big for that. 

The wind picks up, great gusts kicking and whirling around them, sending the snow into wild flurries. Scorpius loses control of the spell as he's battered forward in the blizzard. He puts a hand on the floor to stop himself falling flat on his face, wincing as he bashes his hand against a rock. He pushes himself back to his feet and turns to see the source of the noise, but as he does Albus runs at him and tackles him hard, pushing him back down. 

They fall into the bushes. All the wind is knocked out of Scorpius, and he falls on a rock which digs painfully into his hip. He twists round and glares at Albus. 

"What on earth was that for?" He asks irritably, sitting back up. "I wasn't trying to actually hurt you. I was-" 

Albus grabs his arm and tugs him back down. "Sshh," he says desperately. "Keep still. I don't know if it's dangerous. It might think we look tasty." 

"What?" Scorpius asks, confused. 

Albus points wordlessly up at the sky, and Scorpius looks above him to see an enormous black dragon soaring overhead.

It flies with bat-like wings outstretched, as huge as ships' sails. Its scales look as rough as the craggy rocks of the islands, sharp and black, and a long line of shallow, spiky ridges runs the length of its long long back. Its tail stretches so far behind it that Scorpius has to strain to see it, and as it flies over it plunges them into shadow for a good few seconds. Purple eyes stare straight ahead, thankfully not looking down at the tiny morsels on the ground below it, and as the sharp arrow point of its tail finally flicks past them, Scorpius breathes a sigh of relief. 

He gets to his feet, and Albus's fingers grip his hand.

"Scorpius..."

"It's gone," Scorpius whispers back. "It's not looking for us anyway. I'm sure there are some tasty deer or something it can eat." 

Albus gets up, holding tight to Scorpius's hand, and they stare at the black beast that's skimming away from them towards the sea. 

"Wow," Scorpius squeaks. He lets go of Albus's hand and fans himself. "That was a wild dragon. A wild, native dragon. We just saw a Hebridean Black, on the actual Hebrides. That actually happened!" He bounces up and down on his toes and gives another squeak of pure joy, flailing his hands. 

Albus laughs and clasps his hands together, staring at the dragon with equal delight. "It did actually happen. I can't believe it. I've only ever seen dragons before in the First Task. I never thought I'd see one in real life..." He turns Scorpius, eyes shining. "Thank you." 

Scorpius grins at him, slightly confused, but unable to resist smiling when Albus is looking at him like that. "What are you thanking me for?" 

Albus shrugs. "You want me here. You let me stay. Without you we wouldn't be here, looking at that." He gestures to the retreating dragon. "This is amazing."

"We wouldn't be here if I wasn't sick," Scorpius says. 

"Sometimes good things come from bad situations," Albus says with a little smile. 

Scorpius hugs him, ruffling his hair. "I'm glad you're here. I wouldn't have this any other way." 

Albus's grip tightens round him, and Scorpius leans into him, taking Albus's support. 

"I love you," Albus murmurs, and Scorpius's heart sings. He grins more broadly than ever and buries his face in Albus's shoulder. 

The snow swirls around them, icy flakes settling in their hair and on their clothes, and they hear the distant sound of the sea, and the beating of the dragon's wings. Everything is perfectly peaceful and tranquil, until a sudden crack splits the air in two, making them leap apart. 

Scorpius spins around, heart racing, and sees a woman with windswept red hair and a long burn scar over one cheek levelling a wand at the two of them. Without thinking, Scorpius steps in front of Albus, arms outstretched. Albus grabs the back of his jacket and tries to pull him aside, but Scorpius stands his ground. 

"Don't hurt him." 

"You know you lads aren't meant to be playing out here?" The woman says. "It's dangerous. I'd get tae fuck before you get into any more trouble. Your mithers'll be worrying about you."

Scorpius glances back at Albus, who shrugs. Scorpius swallows and turns to face the woman, lifting his chin in defiance. 

"We're of age. We're here looking for a Phoenix." 

"You look like kids," the woman says, flicking her wand in Albus's direction. "He looks like he's fives year old." 

"I'm seventeen," Albus retorts, and Scorpius can practically feel him glaring at her. 

"We _are_ of age," Scorpius says. "And we need to be here. We're waiting for the Phoenix to come back." 

The woman sighs and pockets her wand. "You'll be waiting a long time. He doesnae live here anymore. This is an auld nest." 

Scorpius slumps his shoulders with disappointment, but Albus steps past him, putting a hand on his back.

"Do you know where he is now? We really need to find him. It's important." 

The woman looks between the two of them. "How do you even know there is a Phoenix? He's a well-kept secret or everyone would be up here after feathers and tears and ash. Do you have friends on the island?" 

"It's a long story," Albus says. "But I promise we're not here to hurt him. We just need his help. Please?" 

"Why should I trust you?" She asks, looking between the two of them. "You dinnae look like the sort to hurt him, but we get all sorts around here. People who look innocent but aren't. How do I know you're nae one of them?" 

Albus gestures to Scorpius. "He's sick. There's a potion. We need to find the ingredients, so we can cure him. It's very important. Once we've found the Phoenix we'll leave straight away. If we don't find the Phoenix..." Albus swallows. "He'll die." He glances at Scorpius, then looks down at the ground.

The woman scrutinises them for a long moment, then she shakes her head. "I should send you home, but-" She looks at Scorpius. "Dinnae ask me why I trust you, because I really dinnae know." She turns away from them and gestures impatiently for them to follow. They glance at each other, uncertain, then start walking after her. 

"The second we've found him," she says, "the two of you have tae bugger off out of here and not come back, understand? Or one of our dragons will end up blasting you. And trust me, you dinnae want that. Even Phoenix Tears will have a hard time clearing up burns from dragon fire."

Albus nods desperately. "We understand. We'll find Fawkes and then leave. We promise." 

Scorpius doesn't nod or make any promises. He's too busy frowning at the woman standing in front of them. "When you say 'our dragons'..."

The woman tuts and extends her hands, one to each side. "Come on. If you ask any more questions I'll leave you here tae rot. We dinnae have time for distractions or we'll lose her." She nods up ahead to the distant black space that is the dragon. 

Scorpius and Albus glance at each other, uncertain.

"Now!" The woman says, wriggling her fingers, making it quite clear what they're meant to do.

They rush up next to her, and as one take hold of her hands. The second they do, they find themselves swirling into pressing darkness, before stumbling onto a freezing, rocky shoreline. 

Sea spray flies up as a wave breaks over a ledge of rock next to them, splashing Scorpius's face with salt water. He stumbles back, wiping it away, and his foot slips on a bit of seaweed. Albus grabs hold of his arms to steady him. 

"Are you okay?" He calls over the howling wind, lashing waves, and distant beat of the dragon's wings. 

Scorpius nods. "Yup. Is this where Fawkes is nesting?"

Albus looks to the woman, who's standing next to them and looking back inland. She shakes her head at him, and raises her fingers to her lips, letting out a piercing whistle that echoes strangely through the air, reverberating although there isn't much for it to bounce off. 

"No," she says. "We're dealing with _her_ first." She gestures up to the dragon.

"Are we safe here?" Scorpius asks, voice coming out a lot more high pitched than he'd meant it to. He takes a step closer to Albus and wraps an arm round his waist, pulling him back behind the woman. 

She grins and brushes her hair out of her eyes. "Just stay still and try not tae look too tasty. You'll be fine." She raises her fingers to her lips again and gives another piercing whistle, then she draws her wand and points it skywards, sending a shower of red sparks dancing upwards. 

Immediately the distant dragon turns in their direction and seems to look right at them, purple eyes bright and intent through the snow storm. It changes direction with a flick of its tail and starts flying towards them. As it does, it roars, with the sound of an earthquake, or eroded rock tumbling down cliff sides into the sea. Scorpius covers his ears and ducks down low, hoping against hope that he, and more importantly Albus, doesn't look like something that might be good on a dragon barbecue. 

As the dragon flies ever closer, her wing beats send gusts of wind swirling around them, flattening the grass, bowing a few scrubby trees, sending the waves lashing backwards and turning to mist. Scorpius grips hold of Albus, worried they might be blown away, and he can see Albus gripping his wand in his pocket, just in case. 

Meanwhile, the woman is no longer standing in front of them, guarding them. She's walking away across the rocks, wand held high above her, spilling out flames, like a flare. The dragon is focused on her, and keeps flying towards her, and the woman seems to be guiding her in, showing her where to land.

Down over the boggy land the dragon soars, bat-like wings outstretched, gliding for home. And everything seems to be going perfectly, until the woman takes one step too far, and the dragon roars again, this time spitting a torrent of fire from her mouth, apparently to clear her landing path. The woman is engulfed in fire so thick that she's no longer visible, and Albus yells and leaps to his feet as Scorpius stares in horror at the place where she'd just been standing. 

The dragon skims in and settles on the rocks where just moments before a helpful stranger had been standing. But now there's nothing but burned seaweed, steaming water, baked salt, and a mass of black, scaly hide as the dragon curls herself up.

"What do we do?" Scorpius gasps. "That thing just burned her alive. I don't think there's anything left!" 

He grips Albus's hand and they go running towards the dragon, but before the two of them get more than a few steps forward, a familiar female voice calls after them. 

"Dinnae get any closer!" 

They turn as one to see the woman standing on the rocks, breathless but unharmed. 

"She's nesting," she says. "If you bother her she'll burn you tae cinders." 

"But you-" Scorpius says, staring at her. "The dragon-" He gestures outwards from his mouth, miming breathing fire. 

"I'm fast," she says. "Seriously, dinnae go near her. She'll die defending her babies." 

"Her... babies?" Scorpius asks, glancing over his shoulder back at the dragon. 

As he looks round he sees the stones on the beach moving, and for a brief moment he wonders if he's seeing things. Then he blinks and realises that what he's looking at are five or six tiny black dragons, scales the same texture and colour as the beach around them. 

"Oh," he gasps. 

"Exactly. Come on, we should leave them tae it. I thought you lads had a Phoenix tae find anyway." 

Scorpius has to drag himself away from the tiny dragons. Watching them claw their way across the rocks, tiny bat-like wings scrabbling to find a hold, tails snaking behind them for balance, occasionally coughing up sparks and little spurts of fire, is just irresistible. But after a few seconds of watching, Albus catches hold of his hand, and the two of them follow the woman away from the family. 

"Do you two have names?" The woman asks as she strides long ahead of them, glancing over her shoulder. 

"James," Albus lies, without a moment's hesitation. It's so impressive that Scorpius pauses in his tracks to stare at him, before Albus's grip tightens on his hand and he remembers that Albus's name isn't meant to be news to him. 

Taking his cue from Albus's easy lie, Scorpius casts about for a name that isn't too outlandish or recognisable. All the names in his family are out, his own middle name is too odd, and pretending to be Albus would just be weird, so he settles for the first normal name that comes to him. 

"Harry," Scorpius says. "I'm Harry." 

Albus gives him a very hard look, and Scorpius replies with an apologetic shrug. Albus rolls his eyes and hurries to catch up with the woman. 

"What about you?" 

"Sorcha," she says. "Would you two hurry up? I dinnae have all day tae be shepherding bairns around the island."

"Sorry," Albus says. "He's sick, we can't go as fast as normal." 

Scorpius ignores him. He rushes forward as fast as he can, trying to keep pace with Sorcha. "What do you do? Do you normally look after that dragon?" 

She glances at him and nods. "Not just that one. There are lots of dragons out on these reservations. It's about tae hit hatching season, that lot are one of the earliest nests we have. There's a lot tae do." 

"You're a dragon keeper then?" 

She nods. "Something like that. But we like tae think we dinnae keep the dragons so much as the dragons keep us." 

Scorpius grins at that and drops back to walk beside Albus. His legs are aching from keeping up the fast pace, and he grips Albus's hand tightly, trying to ignore the pain and think about how cool this entire situation is. 

"Wild Hebridean Blacks, Albus," he whispers. "Baby wild Hebridean Blacks. We just met a dragon keeper. I've never met a dragon keeper before." 

"You've met my uncle," Albus says. 

Scorpius waves a hand. "Family doesn't count. And I've never seen him working, or seen any of his dragons. But this-" He sweeps his hand in a circle around them, indicating how amazing beyond words this is. "I can't wait to tell my dad about this. Maybe I should write him another letter, or- Oh!" A thought strikes him and he drops Albus's hand, hurrying forward to catch up with Sorcha again. "Do you have an owl we can borrow?" 

"I might. Where are you sending it?" 

"To a friend from school. Not far from here." He gestures in the direction of the mainland." 

"Hogwarts?" She asks, eyeing him up. "Your friend says he's seventeen. Shouldn't you two still be at school?" 

"Sort of," Scorpius says "Technically I'm supposed to be in hospital, but we need to be here like we said. Please can I borrow the owl?"

Sorcha sighs. "Do you want the owl first or the Phoenix?" 

"The owl," Scorpius says decisively. "Please." 

"Alright. Stop here." She comes to a halt and draws her wand. Scorpius takes the opportunity to sink to the ground. His breath is coming in tight little gasps by now, and his legs feel weak and unsteady. His rests his forehead against his knees. 

"Are you okay?" Sorcha asks. 

Scorpius nods without looking up, and a moment later he feels Albus's arms circle round him. 

"It's fine," Albus tell her. "Go on." He lowers his voice and his fingers brush through Scorpius's hair in smooth, gentle strokes. "Do you need some of the potion?" 

"Yeah," Scorpius breathes, pressing his eyes shut. "It's the walking. I get tired. I'm sorry." 

"Sshh," Albus chides gently. "Don't apologise." There's the sound of rattling bottles, then Albus's fingers trail across his cheek. "Are you ready to drink?" 

Scorpius swallows and nods, lifting his head. His fingers shake as he takes the bottle, and he spills a little of the potion down his front, but he manages to swallow most of it. When he's done he wipes his mouth and buries his face back in his knees. "It tastes awful," he murmurs. 

"I know," Albus says, taking the bottle from him and gathering him into a tight hug. "But-" 

"It helps," Scorpius finishes, leaning against him. Already he can feel the icy numbness flooding through him. It won't make his legs stronger, but it might make breathing less painful. He'll take anything at this point. 

Albus kisses him on the cheek. "Rest until you feel better. I've got you." 

"That might take a while," Scorpius mumbles. 

Albus just hugs him tighter. 

"So when you said he was sick..." Sorcha says, kneeling down next to them. "Is there anything I can do?" 

"Just help us find the Phoenix," Albus says. "That's all we need."

"Aye." She reaches out and puts a hand on Scorpius's arm. "Your owl is on the way. Then we can go."

Scorpius nods and runs a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath and pushes himself up straight, hoping he looks composed, and not like he's still aching all over, despite the fact that he can feel the potion working its hardest. 

"Albus, can I have some parchment and a quill?" 

For a moment he expects Albus to protest, and tell him to save his strength, but instead Albus starts rummaging through the backpack. A few seconds later he presses the parchment and quill into Scorpius's hands and sits back down next to him holding the ink pot. Scorpius dips his quill and starts to write, doing his best not to smudge the glistening lines of ink with his hand or sleeve. 

The new letter to his dad isn't that long. There's not much else to say, apart from about seeing the dragons (which he gushes about for three paragraphs), and to tell him that Albus is doing a good job of taking care of him. He signs it with love, but doesn't manage to write his name, because a new sort of steely coldness begins to creep through his veins.

He winces and presses a hand to his shoulder for a second. It's a new feeling, not like the pain, or like the numbness of the potion. It feels like a cold blade piercing him, carving outwards from his heart, and he knows it's part of the illness because it starts up the moment he finishes the last r in 'Love you forever'. 

Albus is looking at him, with the sort of expression that says he knows something's wrong, so Scorpius struggles to pull himself together. He flashes Albus a smile and quickly signs his name with a flourish. Then he picks up a second bit of parchment and scribbles a quick explanatory note to Rose, all the while struggling to ignore the biting new pain in his left arm. 

It's a relief to finish the note, and when he does, he folds it up and slips it into an envelope, along with all the other letters to his dad, then he bows his head and leans on his right hand, keeping his left arm curled in close to his body. It's easier that way. The idea of using it right now, or moving it at all, makes him feel faintly sick. He hopes the pain will go away soon, because right now he thinks this strange and awful new sensation might be worse than the familiar ache in his chest. 

"What's wrong now?" Albus asks quietly. "What happened?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "The same," he lies. "I can deal with it." 

Albus kisses him on the cheek and briefly strokes his hair, and thankfully he has the sense not to press any further. 

After a moment or two, with a considerable effort, Scorpius straightens himself up and pushes a smile onto his face. "So, how long will the owl be? Time is a-wasting. We don't want Fawkes to have changed nests or something while we've been sitting here. That would be a bit unfortunate." He grins at Albus, who manages a little smile. 

Sorcha gestures to a speck in the distance. "He's on his way. Are you sure there's nothing else I can do tae help you both, apart from the owl and showing you the Phoenix nest? I know flowers that can heal, and take away pain. I can give you food. If you need somewhere tae rest, I can give you that too." 

Scorpius shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet. He wobbles a bit, and Albus catches hold of his arm to steady him. 

"No thank you. The owl is enough." 

"Alright," Sorcha says, but she doesn't look convinced. 

When the owl arrives it alights on Sorcha's arm and glares around at them, fluffing up its feathers. Sorcha murmurs something to it and strokes a finger across the top of its head. 

"Careful when you tie the letters on. He can be a little nippy." 

"Thanks for the warning," Scorpius says, pulling his hand back as the owl ducks down to nibble at it. 

It takes him three attempts to dodge the beak and claws, and get the letter tied to the owl's leg. When he finally manages it it glares at him and lets out an irritable screech. 

"Oh sshh," Sorcha scolds. "He doesnae mind delivering letters, but avoiding having anything tied on is a bit of a game tae him. And he's a terrible loser." She strokes a finger over the owl's head and he twists to try and reach her. "You see?" She looks at Scorpius. "Before I send him, there's nothing else you want tae say? No final words, or-"

She breaks off as Albus makes a strangled little noise, and Scorpius's stomach drops, making him feel faintly sick. 

"No," he says, trying to sound calm, and not like he's now assessing every word in those letters to see whether they're adequate as a last message to Rose and his dad. "No, I think that's all for now." 

For now. Those won't be the last things his dad reads from him. That's not it. There will be other owls and other letters, and of course he'll go home and talk to his dad in person again. Because he's going to survive. No final words, not for many many years yet, anyway. 

"The Phoenix," he says. "We need to find it. Right now. We have to go." 

He pushes himself away from Albus and starts stumbling forwards across the rocky ground, feet catching on the tussocks of grass as he goes. It's not easy going, and he nearly twists his ankle at least twice before the other two catch up to him, but intense determination keeps him going. Determination to find the ingredients and get better and go home. It's the thing he wants most in all the world right now. 

As they walk, the owl comes skimming low over their heads and disappears off into the distance. Across the sea. Towards Hogwarts. 

Scorpius walks faster, linking arms with Albus as they press on, cutting across the island, over boggy ground that clings to their shoes and tries to pull them down, around boulders and scrubby bushes, up rocky slopes that are slippery with little stones, across streams, hopping from rock to rock to try and keep dry. After about fifteen minutes or so, Sorcha stops and points up a slope, towards a flat ridge a little way above them, perched on the side of a hill. 

"He'll be in there. And if he's not then that's where he'll come back tae. You might have tae wait a while, but it's not raining, and it's sheltered from the wind, so you should be okay. I suppose you know how tae cast a Warming Charm?" 

They both nod, and she seems satisfied. 

"Alright then. You shouldn't get lost from here, and I have tae get back tae those hatchlings." She hesitates a moment, then looks at Scorpius. "You two take care of each other. And good luck with the Phoenix." For a second longer she lingers, then she nods. "Slàinte mhòr agus a h-uile beannachd duibh. I hope you boys make it home soon." She raises a hand, and something like magic washes over Scorpius from head to toe, and warm and tingly. Some of the pain in his arm fades away, and he rubs his shoulder, a faint smile crossing his lips. After a moment the tingling fades, but the warmth remains as Sorcha turns and walks away back towards her dragons. 

Scorpius draws in a breath and glances across at Albus, who is staring at her with the same slightly stunned expression. He looks exactly the way Scorpius feels, like there's some strange, mesmerising spell on him. 

"Okay?" Scorpius asks, giving him a gentle nudge.

Albus shakes himself. "Yeah. Fine. Really good. Should we, um-" he gestures up the hill. "Fawkes." 

"Uh huh," Scorpius agrees, and he sets off walking. 

It doesn't hurt quite so much now, struggling up the hill. His legs feel a bit lighter, his muscles less stiff. He has more energy. And even though there's still a soft whirl of snowflakes falling down around him, he doesn't feel cold. It's like there's a little flame burning somewhere inside him, flickering, shedding warmth and light. He even feels more positive. They _will_ find Fawkes at the top of this hill. 

For a bit, Albus reaches across and holds his hand, and they climb side by side, silent because they're breathing too hard to talk. They're climbing faster than they normally might, anticipation driving them on. 

After five minutes or so, the slope gets too steep. They drop each other's hands and clamber up, grabbing at rocks, hands scrabbling against the loose ones and gripping the steady ones for dear life. Scorpius is careful to just keep staring at the slope, not to look up or down and think about where they are or how far they have to go. At one point he dares to look up and sees the lip of the ridge just above him, but he ducks his head down and tries not to think about what that means. 

Apparently Albus is still looking though. He glances up every now and again, puffing out breaths, face set with ever more determination. He looks like he'd be willing to carry Scorpius to the top if he had to, the way his jaw is tight and his eyes are burning. 

And then, all of a sudden, as he spares another glance up the slope, his eyes go wide and his hand darts out to grab Scorpius's. 

"Phoenix!" He gasps, pointing wildly above them. 

Scorpius looks up straight away, and sees a flash of red and gold soaring through the falling snowflakes. "He's there," he says in amazement. 

"I know," Albus shouts. "Come on!" And then his hand tugs on Scorpius's, and it's all Scorpius can do to hold on as they turn sideways into darkness. 

When they emerge his feet skid on loose gravel and ash, and he takes a second to look around and realise they're in the Phoenix nest. Albus has Apparated them to the top of the slope.

"Isn't that going to scare him away?" Scorpius asks, still trying to get his bearings. He looks up at the sky but there's just grey cloud, and no Phoenix. 

Albus swears. "Yes. Look." He points out towards the sea, where a scarlet streak is disappearing. "Come on we have to chase him. We can't let him get away." 

"Won't that just make it worse?" Scorpius's voice is high-pitched with adrenaline and excitement and fear. 

"Maybe but we have to try," Albus says, and he grips Scorpius's hand tighter, Apparating again. 

This time they end up right underneath the Phoenix. Scorpius spots him above them the second they emerge from the blackness. Albus spots him too and starts sprinting after him, wrenching Scorpius's arm from its socket. 

"I can't run as fast as you," he yells, panting and trying to keep up. "Albus, this is-" 

They're in darkness again, and it knocks all the wind out of him, so when they appear once more he stumbles and falls to his knees. "Albus! Wait, I-" 

Albus isn't holding his hand anymore. He doesn't seem to care. He's running with the desperation of someone possessed. As he runs he yells at the Phoenix to stop, and he keeps Apparating. He gets further and further away, vanishing and reappearing a few metres ahead, then vanishing again and reappearing, sprinting the whole time. 

Scorpius doesn't know how he has the energy. Doesn't know how his legs haven't given out. Doesn't know how he can breathe. Doesn't know how he can possibly Apparate and run while yelling and begging. But he is. He's doing it, and he does it over and over and over again. 

Crack. Crack. Crack. Back down the hill. And he might be gaining some ground. He might be keeping up. Fawkes might be getting the message. 

But then, as Scorpius drags himself to his feet and thinks about following him, there's another crack, and then Albus appears at the bottom of the slope. He collapses and rolls over the stony ground with an awful yelp of pain and a crashing of glass. And then there's silence. 

The whole world goes numb. Scorpius's heart constricts with fear.

"Albus!" He yells. 

Nothing. 

"Albus," he gasps. "No no no no no. Albus!" 

He scrambles to his feet and starts tumbling down the hill. He's shaking, and the whole world seems to have been blotted out somehow, closing in so all that's left is that one terrible scream. He doesn't know where the Phoenix is, and he isn't sure he cares. The only thing that matters in the world now is Albus. 


	12. Fawkes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose receives Scorpius's letters for Draco, and things go from bad to worse for the boys...

It's bright and crowded in the Gryffindor Common Room, even though it's getting late. Most of the people in there are fifth, sixth, and seventh years trying to get through their mountains of homework, so despite how busy it is, it's unusually quiet. 

Rose is in her favourite seat over by the window, under one of the floor lamps. It's the perfect position to see the whole room, so she can spot any troublemaking in seconds. She's been dispensing justice from this very seat for the last three years, and now that the home stretch is approaching, she's even more vigilant than ever. Her friends sometimes joke that she's cast spells all over the Common Room to detect troublemaking even when she's up in her dorm or on the other side of the castle. Which she hasn't, but it's a good idea...

At the moment she's especially on edge and irritable because she's worried. It's been five days since Albus and Scorpius disappeared from Dumbledore's office and she hasn't heard anything from them since. She doesn't know where they are, what they're doing, if they've found Fawkes... She doesn't even know if they're still alive. It's an awful, lonely feeling, not knowing her friends are safe, or if she'll ever see them again. At least she knows that Draco and Harry and Ginny haven't found them yet. She would have heard.

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. The book on the table in front of her has flicked shut while she was thinking, and she has to search through it to find her page again. She's reading about... something. Honestly, she has no idea what she's reading about. It hasn't exactly been easy to concentrate in lessons this week, and she devotes as much of her free time as possible to worrying about Scorpius and taking her fears out on the many rule breakers in the school. Most of all she wishes she could talk to her mum about everything, but that's impossible. 

She finds her page again and starts trying to read the chapter they've been given as Charms homework. But as she reads, a soft tapping on the window distracts her. She does her best to ignore it, but it gets more and more insistent, until she has no choice but to look up. 

She frowns at the window and sees an owl perching there. It's not a familiar owl. It doesn't even look like one of the school owls, and it's far too scruffy to be a Ministry owl or a post owl. Curious, she gets to her feet and opens the window.

The owl doesn't hop towards her. It stays sitting there, glaring at her. It definitely has a letter, but it isn't holding its leg out. 

"Come on," Rose says gently, in what she hopes is a coaxing voice. "Hand it over." 

It's freezing outside, and the people near her to turn to glare as a gust of icy wind batters its way into the room. 

"Please," she says. "Before we all freeze to death. You can even come in too if you want." 

She rummages in her pocket for a spare owl treat. The owl regards it suspiciously, hops forward and snatches it from her. Then it flutters back to the edge of the window ledge, out of Rose's reach. 

"For Salazar's sake," she groans. "Come on you stupid-"

The owl hops forward again as she holds out another treat, and this time she manages to hold it still long enough to detach the letter. It tries to nip at her hand, but she avoids its beak, leaves the treat on the window ledge, and slams the window shut to keep out the cold. The owl wasn't showing any interest in coming inside anyway. It'll be fine out there. Even as she returns to her seat, it's already finished the treat, and she sees it take off and soar away into the darkness. 

She flops down and sinks into the squashy cushions, flipping the letter over in her lap. The second she sees the handwritten address she gasps and claps her hands over her mouth. That's Scorpius's writing. She'd recognise it anywhere. And that means he must be alive somewhere. She can't stop herself bouncing up and down in her seat as she rips into the letter and unfurls the thick sheaf of parchment. 

_Hi Rose,_

_I'm borrowing this owl from a Hebridean dragon keeper who's agreed to show us where Fawkes is nesting. (I know, it's as crazy as it sounds. We just saw a load of baby dragons! Wild baby dragons! In real life! I still can't believe it.)_

_I've been mostly okay. Albus and I had a bit of a fight but we're alright now. I'm really glad he's still here. I don't really know what I would have done if he'd left. But he didn't and everything is fine. (I really wish you were here too.)_

_Although so much exciting stuff has happened, I'm mostly writing because I'd like you to keep hold of the letters I've included. They're for my dad. You know. Just in case._

_I'd really appreciate it if you could hold onto them and, if something bad happens (which I hope it won't), send them to him. Only if you need to._

_There's so much I want to tell him about all of this, and I'm worried I won't have time. But I know I can trust you to pass them on. I hope I'll send more soon, and I hope he'll never need to see them, because I want to tell him everything myself._

_I'm doing my best to keep going, Rose. And the adventure is going okay. We're so close to finding Fawkes, and then we'll move on to the other ingredients. It won't be long until we come home._

_Love,_

_Your most irritating friend, Scorpius_

She reads the letter through three times, then stares down at the other bits of parchment enclosed: the letters to Draco. All those words. All those adventures. All those things Scorpius wants to say and share but might never get chance to. 

A wave of emotion hits her, and she blinks hard, putting the letters down on the table and forcing herself not to cry, forcing herself not to even look like she's about to cry. She never cries, not even over something like this. 

After several seconds of struggle she pulls herself back together and picks the letters up again. The temptation to read them is overwhelming, and she wonders if Scorpius would mind. It sounds like he's been up to a lot, and she wants to know what exactly. Because if he won't get chance to tell Draco then he won't get chance to tell her either, and she's his friend; one of his best friends.

She's just picking at the edge of the first letter, curling the corner up and trying to work out how amoral it would be to just have a quick look, when someone flumps down in the seat opposite her. 

"Where are they?" 

She looks up, and sees Lily sitting there, already wearing her pyjamas and dressing gown, flame red hair gathered up into a tight ponytail behind her head, expression as hard and determined as the one her brother wears so often. 

"Where are who?" Rose asks, feigning innocence, and tucking the letters out of sight.

Lily rolls her eyes. "I know those are from Scorpius. You look like you've just been hit by a Bludger." She leans forward in her seat. "So where are they? Are they still alive? I mean, I suppose they must be if they're writing to you." 

Rose considers for a moment, then she too leans forward, so her and Lily's foreheads are almost pressed together, the way they used to sit when they were younger and would tell each other secrets while James and Hugo were hunting for Gnomes in the garden, and Albus was doing whatever Albus did on his own. 

"You can't tell a soul," Rose whispers.

"Can I tell James?" Lily murmurs. "He won't tell Mum and Dad. He's worried but he won't betray Albus." 

"You have to make him promise," Rose says, deadly serious. "This is a matter of life or death." 

"I will," Lily says gravely. 

Rose nods. "Alright. I trust you." And she begins to recount, in a soft whisper, the story of how they'd found out about Scorpius's illness, and the potion, and how they'd gone to the Chamber of Secrets and then broken into McGonagall's office, and how Scorpius and Albus are now goodness knows where, but most likely somewhere in the Hebrides looking for a Phoenix. 

"They're looking for Fawkes?" Lily gasps, reeling back, voice rising far too loudly over the quiet hum of conversation filling the room. 

"Shush!" Rose says, waving her to quiet down.

"Sorry, sorry," Lily hisses. "It's just, hasn't he been dead for what, twenty-six years?"

"Do Phoenixes die though?" Rose asks. "Isn't the whole point of a Phoenix that it sort of keeps going? I mean, they could probably die if they wanted to... But Professor Dumbledore told us where he might be and according to this letter he really is there." 

Lily sinks back in her chair and folds her arms. "So they're chasing round Scotland looking for a bird? Where are they going after that?" 

Rose shrugs. "I don't know." She catches Lily's look. "I promise I don't! I'm as in the dark about all this as you are."

Lily eyes her for a moment before seeming satisfied that she's telling the truth. 

She sits up, scuffing the toe of her slipper on the floor. "Do you think they'll manage to do it?" 

"The only person I know who's more determined than Albus is you," Rose says with a grin. "If anyone can do it, he can."

Lily nods and twists her fingers together in her lap. "I think Albus would be destroyed if anything happens to Scorpius... He really does love him." 

"I know," Rose sighs. "We just have to hope everything turns out okay." 

"Will you send Draco the letters?" 

Rose looks down at the parchment on the table between them and curls the corner of one of the letters up under her finger. "I don't know," she says quietly. "I hope not. But if I have to. Or if I think I need to. If it doesn't look like he'll make it."

For a moment they sit in silence, both staring at the letters, then Lily gets up and rounds the table. She hugs Rose hard, and Rose squeezes her arms and closes her eyes. 

"When they come home," Lily says, "I am going to have words," 

Rose laughs and hugs her tighter. "Maybe I will too." 

"They should be very afraid," Lily says, giving her a quick squeeze before letting go and returning to her seat.

"Speaking of afraid," Rose says. "We have to talk about our Quidditch Captain..." 

Lily groans and drops her forehead onto the table with a thud. "No. Please. Let's _not_ talk about them." She sits up. "It's ridiculous that you can't be Head Girl _and_ Quidditch Captain. All that happens is _this_." She gives an illustrative wave of the hand and pulls a face. 

"Well," Rose says. "You're going to have to help me strategise, because this cannot go on." 

And after that all thought of Albus and Scorpius is lost in favour of complaining and strategising. In fact, the letters don't even return to Rose's mind until she's lying in bed that night, wondering whether Albus and Scorpius are sleeping too, and whether it's raining as hard wherever they are as it is here. She hopes not. That sort of downpour will only speed up the arrival of the moment where she has to send the stupid letters to Draco. And the idea of that moment is complete hell. 

 

Albus screams. He rolls across the ground, clutching his shoulder, which feels like it's been torn in two. The whole world is agony, and all he can do is curl up on the snowy ground and try to not to sob from the pain. It's too much. Every scream tears itself from his throat. Raw and awful. But it's the only way to express how terrible this feels, the sensation of being ripped apart, muscle and sinew and vein. 

All his effort is focused on not passing out and not throwing up from how much it hurts. He retches, whole body convulsing, and pants for air. He never knew something could hurt so much that it would stop you breathing. It would be so easy just to give up and sink into blissful darkness. At least then the pain would stop. But he can't because- because someone has to take care of Scorpius, and someone has to catch the Phoenix, and if he passes out then it'll be lost. They'll be back to square one.

Despite everything, despite the unbearable pain in his shoulder, he rolls onto his front and tries to push himself onto all fours. He lifts his head and looks up at the white sky.  There's no sign of any red or gold up there, but that doesn't mean anything. It can't mean anything. They don't have time to lose Fawkes now. 

He plants one of his feet on the ground, and starts trying to work out how to get to his feet when he feels so dizzy and dazed that he isn't sure which way is up. Before he gets very far there's a crunching and scraping of gravel behind him; a rustle of bushes, and then Scorpius's voice. 

"Albus! Albus, Albus stop. Albus." 

Hands close around his right shoulder and his back, and he feels Scorpius hugging him close. He's breathing hard, but he's solid and strong, and Albus doesn't have it in him to resist being pulled into his arms. 

"Oh Merlin," Scorpius says, and his fingers brush through Albus's hair, like he doesn't know what to do with his shoulder, like he doesn't dare touch it. "Oh fuck. This is a mess, this is- Shit." His voice is shaky, panicking. "Is there Dittany?" He asks. "Did you pack any?" 

"I don't know," Albus groans. He doesn't know anything at the moment. "No? Why would I have packed-" Scorpius shifts behind him and supports him as he tries to pull the backpack off. One of the straps brushes over Albus's shoulder and he yells, whole body contorting and tightening from the pain. 

"Sorry!" Scorpius gasps. "Sorry sorry sorry. Are you okay?"

"No!" Albus says through gritted teeth. "Of course not." 

"No," Scorpius mutters. "Stupid question. Fuck. Are you _sure_ there's no Dittany?" 

"Why the _fuck_ would there be Dittany?" Albus asks, rolling onto his side and clutching his shoulder. 

"You're a potion maker!" Scorpius says desperately. "You're supposed to have- Never mind." Scorpius has got the bag off now and is unzipping it. He sticks his hand in but withdraws it quickly. Albus realises it's covered with blood, and he feels sick again. That's his blood. It's everywhere. This is really bad.

He rests his forehead on an icy rock on the ground and closes his eyes. Now he's realised how much blood he's lost, how it must be draining out of him and staining the snow-covered ground, he feels faint. He's never been squeamish, but this is different. It really hurts. 

"Scorpius," he says, trying to keep his voice level, trying to sound like he's not panicking. "Please help me." He's shaking now. 

"Yes," Scorpius says, and he sounds distracted, but trying to work out why is beyond Albus's capabilities right now. "Yes, sorry. I'm here. No Dittany, so I'm going to have to- I-I've never done this spell on anyone." 

"I don't care," Albus whimpers. "Just do something." 

The tip of Scorpius's wand brushes his arm and he hisses, and tries to pull away, but Scorpius holds him still and starts muttering under his breath. Albus isn't sure how the spell works, what its effect should be, how long it takes to work, but after several seconds of Scorpius murmuring, he's forced to accept that nothing is happening. 

"I can't feel anything," he says, pressing his eyes tight shut and trying to breathe. "Scorpius."

"I've never done this before!" Scorpius squeaks, high-pitched and hysterical. "I've read about it but I don't know how to- I'm doing my best." 

"Well do better!" 

Scorpius growls. "Sometimes you are-" He cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, and starts trying the spell again. Albus braces himself for disappointment, but as the seconds pass and he feels colder and weaker, and his fingers are slick and slippery from all the blood, he starts feeling very much like he wants to cry. 

"Nothing," he says, voice tight and choked. He's beginning to wonder if he's going to bleed to death. Can you lose enough blood from your shoulder that it would kill you? He's spent so long worrying about Scorpius dying that he never even thought about any danger he might be in. 

"I'll try again," Scorpius says, and it sounds like he's trying not to cry too. "If there was an easier spell I'd try it, but- This is the only one I know. I'm sorry I'm not good enough." 

"If anyone can cast the fucking spell, you can," Albus says. 

"Yes," Scorpius agrees. He takes a deep breath. "Yes, you're right. Okay." For a moment there's silence, then he starts murmuring again, and this time there's the slightest tingle of warmth. It's not enough to do anything much, but it feels wonderful. It's like golden sunlight breaking through the clouds, and Albus can feel just a little of the pain subside. He can feel something changing in his shoulder, some sort of slight relief. And then, just as the spell seems to be taking hold and really starting to work, and Scorpius's confidence seems to be building, Scorpius pulls away. 

Albus hears him give a quiet gasp, and he wonders if something's gone wrong, if maybe magic hurts Scorpius now too. But then there's the strange sound of beating wings, a keening, musical cry that makes him feel very content with the world all of a sudden, then a scrabbling sound, and Scorpius's warmth beside him disappears. 

"Scorpius?" He asks, brain running too slowly to figure any of this out, because all its power is focused on staying conscious. "What's happening? It was working." 

"I know," Scorpius says. "But-" 

He stops, and Albus looks up to encourage him to continue. But when he does he doesn't see Scorpius. Instead he finds himself face to face with a large bird with red and gold plumage. 

It blinks at him, eyes dark and beady, full of intelligence. Those eyes look watery, there are tears in them, and Albus wonders if he's hallucinating.

He stares, trying to process, and the bird lowers its head and blinks again. This time a tear drops down onto Albus's shoulder, falling through the air, a perfect crystalline orb before it splashes onto his mangled wound. 

"Fawkes," he breathes, as blazing, glorious warmth spreads through his shoulder. It feels wonderful. The wound is being cleaned and refreshed, the skin is already starting to knit together, and the tears that are now falling from Fawkes's eyes are washing away the blood. The pain is fading, leaving a very pleasant sort of numbness, and Albus feels like he might cry himself, just out of happiness. 

But then he realises what's happening, and the terrible implications of it. 

Fawkes is crying, but he shouldn't be. Not for Albus. It's Scorpius who needs these tears. And what if there's some sort of quota? What if Phoenixes only have so many tears every day? What if they all get used up and they can't finish the potion and Scorpius dies and it's all Albus's fault? 

"No!" He shouts, as it all comes crashing in on him. "No! Don't do that. Stop it." He pushes at Fawkes, wanting to get him away, wanting the tears to stop. 

"Albus!" Scorpius says indignantly. "What are you doing? You're going to hurt him!" 

"I need a glass bottle," Albus says, still trying to hold Fawkes back. "Scorpius, get me a bottle from the bag. Please. Right now." 

"Let him heal you," Scorpius says. "Look at you, you're a mess. He can help." 

"The tears are meant to be for you," Albus replies, glaring at him. "Give me a bottle." He pushes himself up off the ground and holds his right hand out. 

Scorpius eyes it for a moment, then he hugs himself and looks at the open backpack next to him. "I'm not sure there are any-"

"Glass bottles?" Albus asked. "I packed ten, in case any got broken." 

"I know, but-" Scorpius sighs and shakes his head. "Alright." He pulls the backpack towards him and points his wand into the bag. He closes his eyes for a moment, like he's wishing or praying, which Albus doesn't understand because there are loads of bottles in there. Scorpius is just being difficult for no reason, and Fawkes- He realises with a jolt that Fawkes has stopped crying and is looking between the two of them with intense curiosity. 

"Don't stop crying!" Albus tells him. "We need you to cry. Just not on me. Scorpius, can you-"

"Accio bottle," Scorpius says, and immediately a glass bottle comes flying into his hand. An expression of sheer relief crosses his face, and he passes it across to Albus. 

Albus takes it and turns to Fawkes, who tilts his head to the side and croons softly.

"We need some of your tears," Albus tells him. Those dark eyes are so bright and intelligent. He's certain the bird understands every word they're saying. "It's really important. We need it for a potion." 

Fawkes blinks at him, then looks over at Scorpius and hops a step toward him, wings extending. 

"That's right," Albus says, keeping his voice calm and quiet. "He's sick. He needs the tears more than I do. And if we don't get them-" He looks across at Scorpius whose gaze is fixed on the bird. He looks beautiful in his fascination with it, expression intense and curious. There's some sort of connection there as he and Fawkes look at each other, and Albus somehow knows that the bird understands what's at stake here. "If we don't get them then he'll- he'll die." He swallows and glances away from Scorpius, because it hurts too much to look at him. "Please. Help us." 

His voice breaks as he says it, but he doesn't think Scorpius hears, because at the same moment, Fawkes utters a high, keening cry. It's so piercingly, achingly beautiful, like a note of pure grief, and it makes Albus want to bury his face in his hands and sob. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Scorpius wiping his face on the back of his left hand, the one that isn't covered in blood. 

Fawkes hops towards Albus and eyes the bottle. Albus holds it out to him, hopeful that he'll understand what he's meant to do with it. Apparently he does, because he rests his face against the edge of the glass, and tears begin to dribble down, trickling and falling on the inside of the bottle. They splash and ripple, and overhead the sun struggles through a break in the snow-heavy clouds and makes the tears sparkle like diamonds or ice.

It doesn't take long before the bottle is full, and Fawkes blinks out one last tear before withdrawing his head and looking up at Albus, as if to say 'is that what you wanted?'

Albus nods. "Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much." With shaking hands he manages to cork the bottle, and he hands it across to Scorpius to put back in the bag. Then he sinks down and leans on his right elbow, left arm curled against his chest. 

He feels exhausted all of a sudden. Maybe it's the relief of having found Fawkes and having got the tears – this has been a week in the making and it's finally happened – or maybe it's that he's still in pain and now he doesn't have anything to hold on for. He could just lie here and sleep. He could just let the whole world fade away. 

"We should go somewhere," Scorpius says, crawling across to him and stroking his hair gently. "We should go somewhere warm. I need to clean you up still."

"Not Apparating," Albus groans. "Please." 

"I don't know if there's another way to get out of here," Scorpius says. "Unless..." he hesitates. "Fawkes, you can Apparate. Can you take people?" 

The bird gives a faint croak, and Scorpius looks down at Albus. He's frowning, his grey eyes sparkling with concern, as heavy as the snow clouds above them. "Would you let him take us? I don't have a better way, and you look freezing. We can't stay here." 

Albus looks at Fawkes, meeting his beady eye, and he finds himself nodding without really thinking about it. There's something about the bird that he trusts implicitly. 

"Okay," he murmurs. 

"Good," Scorpius says. "Thank you." There's a rustling and clinking as he heaves the backpack off the floor and pulls it on, then he crawls across to Albus and gathers him up in his arms, holding him tight. Fawkes flutters across to them and turns around, offering his tail feathers. 

"Are we supposed to... hold on?" Scorpius asks hesitantly. "It won't hurt?" He pats Albus on the chest and leans in close, lowering his voice. "Once when I was little I tried to grab the tail feathers of one of our peacocks. Just because it was pretty and I didn't know it was rude. They've hated me ever since. I swear those birds have got it in for me." 

Albus gives a weak smile and squeezes his hand. "I don't think Fawkes is as vindictive as your peacocks." 

"I hope not," Scorpius says. "Are you _sure_ we can hold on?" He asks Fawkes. 

The bird gives another affirmative croak, and Scorpius sighs. 

"Alright then. Here goes." He reaches out and takes hold of Fawkes's tail feathers, and at the same time Albus feels his grip tighten around his shoulders. He's about to brace himself for the Apparition, but before he has chance there's a loud crack, a roar and a heat like fire, then another crack and they're on the ground outside An Cladach.

"That was impressive," Scorpius says to Fawkes as he extricates himself from Albus and gets to his feet. "Thank you." He reaches a hand out to Albus. "Come inside. We can clean you up a bit. Do you think you can stand, or do I need to carry you?" 

Albus shakes his head. "Don't carry me. I'm fine." He takes hold of Scorpius's hand and hauls himself upright, stumbling several steps until Scorpius manages to wrap an arm round his waist to steady him. 

"You're alright," Scorpius says. "I've got you." He hesitates and pulls back, looking at Albus. " _Are_ you alright?" 

"Not entirely," Albus admits. His shoulder is still aching. He's not sure when he's going to collapse but he knows it's going to be soon, and he'd quite like to be lying down when it happens. He feels unsteady and tired, and even thinking how much of a mess his shoulder must still be makes him feel a bit sick. He hasn't looked at it yet. He'd rather not look at it ever. 

"Bed," Scorpius says firmly, giving him a very gentle shove towards the bothy door. "Come on." 

Albus nods and doesn't resist. It's easier to let Scorpius steer him forwards, into the warmth and comfort of the little hut. 

They're almost in through the door when Fawkes gives another of his high, musical cries, and Scorpius freezes and releases his grip on Albus's waist. Albus leans against the door frame and looks back to see him standing several steps away, staring at the Phoenix. 

"Scorpius," Albus murmurs. He's not sure how long he can stand up on his own, but he also doesn't want to interrupt the moment. 

Scorpius waves a hand at him to wait, then starts walking towards Fawkes. It's like he's being drawn in, like he's connected to Fawkes by a thread and can't resist being pulled forward to him. When he reaches the Phoenix, he kneels in front of him. 

"Hi," he whispers. "What do you want?" His words get carried away on the wind, so Albus can barely hear them. But Fawkes seems to hear clearly and understand. He looks up, right into Scorpius's eyes, then he leans forward and rests his head against Scorpius's heart. 

Scorpius's shoulders relax as he does it, and he bows his head. He raises one trembling hand and runs his fingers over the bird's feathers. Albus has no idea what Scorpius is feeling, but he imagines it must be amazing. Calming and healing and warm. He hasn't seen Scorpius look so relaxed and comfortable in months, between all the pain and worry. 

"Thank you, Fawkes," Scorpius murmurs, and the bird croons at him. 

For a moment he stays sitting there, then he gives the bird's feathers one last stroke and gets to his feet. When he turns back to Albus he looks a bit less pale than he did before. There's some colour in his cheeks, the same gentle pink blush that used to be a permanent feature before last summer. And he's smiling. 

"Come on, Albus." He takes Albus's hand, wraps a comforting arm around his waist, and supports him into the hut. Behind them there's a loud crack and a flash of light, and when Albus glances back he sees that Fawkes has disappeared. 

The door bangs shut behind them as Scorpius helps Albus inside. Albus just about manages to stumble across to one of the beds before his legs give out. He flops onto his back and lies there, eyes closed, hoping that Scorpius might light a fire and find the sleeping bags. 

Scorpius, because he's the best boyfriend in the world, does both of those things. Albus hears Scorpius murmur an 'Incendio', feels warmth begin to wash over him, then he feels Scorpius tuck the sleeping bag around him. 

"I need to take your shirt off," Scorpius says. "Is that okay?" 

"Is this the time?" Albus mumbles. 

Scorpius tuts. "I just want to see your shoulder properly. Your shirt's all torn up and covered in blood anyway. You can't keep wearing it." 

"My mum's going to kill me," Albus says, because he reckons that saying yes will require more effort on his part than he has energy for. 

"She might not have chance if you don't let me clean you up." 

Scorpius sounds so stern and authoritative that Albus opens his eyes in surprise. His arms are folded and he's glaring, and Albus immediately loses all desire to argue with him. 

"Fine," he says. "You're going to be a really good Healer one day." 

Scorpius gives a faint smile and draws his wand. "Thanks." He directs his wand at Albus's chest and murmurs, "Diffindo". To Albus's relief, he's good at the spell, and all it does is cut through the fabric. There's not even a mark left on Albus's skin. 

Scorpius pulls the shirt off after a couple more cuts, then he crouches down on the floor and starts inspecting Albus's shoulder. His touch is a little cold, but very gentle. He doesn't do anything that hurts; in fact, when he starts casting spells they begin to help right away. 

Scorpius's magic has been one of Albus's favourite things for years. It feels confident and competent. There's a surety and strength to it that's very comforting. It's warm and generous, and there's never any doubt that it comes from the same person who'd been so keen to share his sweets with strangers on the train all those years ago. Most of all though, it feels like friendship, and love, and Albus begins to melt into comfortable unconsciousness as it runs through him, making him feel very safe and very cared for. 

In the far distance, he hears Scorpius murmuring spells, and feels some sort of cool cloth dabbing his shoulder clean. When he blinks his eyes open a crack, Scorpius pulls his left sleeve down over his hand and gives him a smile. 

"Aren't you asleep yet?" 

"I think I am," he murmurs. "Maybe I'm dreaming now." 

Scorpius leans over and kisses his forehead. "Go and keep dreaming. I'm nearly done." 

Albus closes his eyes again. He feels soft bandages wrapping round his arm. The darkness behind his eyes goes pitch black as Scorpius extinguishes the lights in the room. He hears him fumbling in the darkness for pyjamas, then he hears the creaking of the bed. The last thing he's aware of before he finally slips away, is Scorpius's warm body curling up under the sleeping bag beside him. 

He sleeps well, painlessly, but when he wakes the next morning his shoulder is aching. It aches in an overwhelming sort of way, a constant presence of pain, and he gets the feeling that it isn't going to go away any time soon without help. With a groan, he rolls onto his side and Scorpius grumbles at him. 

"Sorry," Albus whispers. "My shoulder hurts." He pushes himself upright and clamps his hand over his shoulder. "Can I have some of your Painkilling Potion?" 

"What?" Scorpius asks. He sits up next to Albus and rubs his eyes, groggy, hair all ruffled. 

"Potion," Albus repeats. "Can I have some?" 

"Oh." Scorpius's expression warps into something rather somber. "Um... I-I don't think so." 

Albus stares at him. "What? Why?" It's unlike Scorpius to be selfish. "I know you need it, but- Can't I even have a little bit? There'll be plenty left." 

Scorpius bows his head and bites his lip. "The-the thing is... the thing is..." He takes a deep breath and twists his hands together. "There isn't any potion left." 

Albus frowns. "What? What do you mean there's none left?"

"I mean," Scorpius says, very slowly and carefully. "That yesterday, when you- I'm not blaming you. It's not your fault. But when you Splinched yourself... I think all the bottles might have..." he swallows. "Might have smashed. A-and now there's no potion left."

All of Albus's insides freeze in complete horror. "There's... none?" He whispers, and in his mind's eye all he can see is the image of Scorpius the other morning, writhing and yelling in agony. His own pain dulls to insignificance in comparison, because that potion is all that's keeping Scorpius upright. It's helping to keep him alive and normal. He needs it. 

Scorpius shrugs. "There might be a couple of bottles at the bottom of the bag, but it's basically all gone."

Albus looks at him for a moment, then he shakes his head. "No. No, I don't believe you." 

"Albus," Scorpius murmurs. 

"No! You must be wrong. You can't have looked properly." He scrabbles out from under the sleeping bag and walks barefoot across the cold stone floor to where the backpack is lying. He crouches down, opens it up, and peers inside. 

It's full of shards of broken glass, and when he sticks his hand in and sifts through the mess, he finds more and more bits of broken glass. He waves his wand and summons himself a t-shirt, but when it flies into his hand it's all sticky from spilt potion. In desperation, he tries summoning a bottle of Painkilling Potion, but nothing happens. He tries the spell a second time, then a third, certain he's just doing it wrong, but not one bottle comes flying to his hand. 

Shocked, he reels back and sits down hard on the floor. Behind him, he hears Scorpius give a quiet sniff, and he glances back to see him wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. 

"It's not a problem," Scorpius says, voice thick and choked with tears. "I-I can cope for now. Fawkes did something. It helped. I'll be okay, Albus." 

"If it's okay," Albus asks, "why are you so upset?" 

Scorpius sniffs and shakes his head. "I'm not. I'm just..." he looks down at his hands, and a tear dribbles off the end of his nose and plops in his lap. "Just a bit scared. But I'm fine. I'll be fine." He pushes a smile onto his face and waves a hand at Albus. "Anyway, you're the most important thing right now. Sorting your shoulder out. There are some spells I know. Painkilling ones. The Healers taught me last summer. They're not strong enough for me anymore but I'm sure they'd work for you. May I?" He draws his wand with a flourish, and looks expectantly at Albus. Albus detects that he's desperate to change the subject, so he nods. 

"Go on."

Scorpius hops off the bed and pads across to Albus. He kneels beside him on the ground and brandishes the wand at his shoulder, a confident, crisp gesture. Albus doesn't hear him say anything, doesn't even see his lips move, and he's impressed by Scorpius's impeccable use of Non-Verbal spells. Then a gentle, pleasant numbness begins to creep through his shoulder and he's even more impressed. He groans and sags sideways with relief.

"You're amazing, thank you." 

Scorpius smiles and tucks his wand away. "Always a pleasure." 

"You really are going to be a very good Healer one day," Albus says, looking up at him. 

Scorpius nods. "I hope so." He holds a hand out to Albus. "Come and lie down for a bit. I want that to start working properly before we go running around looking for whatever we need to look for next." 

They wriggle inside the sleeping bag and curl up together. Albus can feel Scorpius's cold toes against his legs, and he shivers and nudges him. 

"You should wear socks. Your toes are freezing." 

"I know. I had trouble finding things in the bag last night. In the end I decided that you were more important than my poor toes." He nudges Albus in return. 

"Well I'm glad you think I'm important, but I am a little bit concerned that you might get frostbite." Albus catches hold of his hands and squeezes them. "Do your toes need a Warming Charm?"

"Maybe a kiss might warm them up?" Scorpius suggests hopefully. 

Albus snorts. "You want me to kiss your toes? No offence but that's weird." 

Scorpius tuts and shoves at him. "Not my toes. My lips." 

"And that will help to warm your toes up... how exactly?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "It might not, but it's worth a try isn't it?" 

"You're ridiculous," Albus says, grinning. He pulls Scorpius's hands up out of the sleeping bag, and kisses his knuckles. "Completely ridiculous." 

"But only in a good way," Scorpius chirps. 

"Oh of course. In the best way." Albus gives his fingers another kiss, and as he does, the left sleeve of Scorpius's jumper drops down a bit on his wrist. It's all baggy because of how Scorpius is constantly stretching it, and it falls back far enough that Albus can see the whole of the pale underside of his wrist. Normally he wouldn't pay much attention to it, but this time something catches his eye, and he pauses and tries to lift Scorpius's arm up. 

Scorpius resists, tugging his hand back. "Albus. What are you doing?" 

"There's something on your wrist," Albus says, pulling at his fingers. "Like a mark or something. Did you scratch yourself on something while we were walking yesterday?" 

"Maybe," Scorpius says, twisting his hand to try and extricate it from Albus's grip. It feels like he's desperately fighting not to let Albus anywhere near his wrist. "I'm sure it's nothing. You don't need to worry." 

Albus eyes him. "Really? You're behaving like this is something I need to worry about." 

"Please," Scorpius says, reaching up with his free hand to stroke Albus's cheek. "It's not important. I promise." 

Albus isn't distracted. He brushes Scorpius's hand away from his cheek and takes hold of Scorpius's left wrist, clutching it with both hands now. "If it's not important, let me see." 

"No," Scorpius says, glaring at him. 

"Please." Albus squeezes his fingers in a way he hopes is reassuring. "Maybe I can help." 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I don't think you can. I think it's- I think it's part of the illness."

"What is it?" Albus asks. "Please let me see." 

Scorpius sighs. "Fine. Just... don't freak out." 

"I'm calm," Albus promises. 

Finally Scorpius relaxes his arm and stops trying to pull it away. He avoids looking at Albus, and instead stares off towards the fireplace. Albus studies his face for a moment, then he gently draws Scorpius's hand towards him and turns it over, so he can see the inside of his wrist. 

At first he's not sure exactly what he's looking at. There's a sort of greyish, greenish tinge to Scorpius's skin that definitely doesn't look healthy, but it could just be a fading bruise or something. But then Albus pushes Scorpius's sleeve up a bit further and he's struck with a sickening horror as he sees what Scorpius was trying to hide. 

Where usually the visible veins in Scorpius's arm run pal blue and purple beneath his skin, now they've been replaced with a creeping inky green, so dark it almost looks black. It's like his blood is being slowly replaced with poison, or disease. And around the darkening veins, the skin has gone a sort of dead-looking dull grey. There's no life or vitality in those bits of Scorpius's body. It seems as though he's already begun to die. And as he looks at it, he remembers what the book had said. 

_'The final stage of the disease is a gradual spreading of poison through the sufferer's veins, causing numbness and weakness, and gradually shutting down the body.'_

This is the final stage. Scorpius is dying. 

Swallowing hard to keep from throwing up, Albus eases Scorpius's sleeve back further and further, as far as it will go, and the greyness stretches back and back, to Scorpius's shoulder and beyond. Albus drops the sleeve, lets go of Scorpius's hand, and takes several deep breaths. 

"When did this happen?" He asks after a few long and terrible seconds.

"I noticed it last night," Scorpius murmurs. "But I... I felt a pain in my shoulder yesterday. When I was writing to my dad. It felt like... like this looks." 

"And..." Albus struggles to keep his tone even and neutral. "Has it spread since yesterday?" 

Scorpius nods. "A little bit. Less since Fawkes did whatever he did, but..." He trails off and Albus doesn't know what to do with himself. 

There's nothing he can do with this. There's nothing to do about the fact that Scorpius is dying before his very eyes, slowly, bit by bit, inch by inch, this ugly green poison spreading through his whole body, taking over him, chasing out all the life left in him. 

Except there _is_ something he can do. He can stop lying here and wallowing in the pain of his shoulder. What's a shoulder compared to a life? Especially Scorpius's life, which is precious beyond all else. They need to get on and get moving, before too many seconds tick away, and all the life drains from Scorpius's body. There's not a moment to lose.

Albus fights his way out of the sleeping bag and marches across to the backpack on the floor. "Come on," he says. 

Scorpius sits up, running a hand through his hair. "Albus, if you're walking out on me now I'll understand, but I'm not letting you go without a-" 

"I'm not walking out," Albus growls, pulling some clothes from his bag and cleaning the potion stains off them with an impatient wave of his wand. "We're going to find potion ingredients. Right now. Come on." 

"What?" Scorpius runs a hand over his face. He looks exhausted. "But you need to rest. You're still injured, and-"

"And you're dying!" Albus says, whirling back to face him. "You're dying right now, so we're going. What does 'remnants of a sacrifice' mean to you? Where do we get that? It seems pretty subjective." 

Scorpius shrugs and chews his fingernails. "I don't know. I was thinking maybe Godric's Hollow?" 

"Good!" Albus says enthusiastically, kicking his pyjama trousers off and pulling on a pair of jeans. "Excellent. Godric's Hollow it is then. Off we go." 

"Don't we need a plan?" Scorpius asks. "Don't we need to think this through? We can't just barge into Godric's Hollow. What if your dad has people out looking for us?" 

Albus stoops down and pulls the slippery folds of the Invisibility Cloak from his bag. "They won't see us. We can be in and out right away. No more arguing, let's go. Get up and get dressed. Here, you can even wear my favourite jumper." He pulls it from the bag and tosses it in Scorpius's direction. 

"I'm not giving up on you," he says, pointing at Scorpius. "Not now and not ever. That on your arm doesn't look good, so we're going to fight it. We can fight anything together. Am I wrong?" 

Scorpius considers for a moment, then he shakes his head. "No, you're not wrong." He gets to his feet and starts pulling his pyjamas off, and Albus feels determination kindle in his heart, in a way it hasn't since he needed to save Cedric. 


	13. Remnants of a Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Scorpius's condition deteriorating fast, the boys head to Godric's Hollow to find the next ingredient. What they don't know is that Harry's Aurors are waiting for them in the village...

Albus stares out at the sea, feeling unsteady and uncertain. He's shivering, not just from the cold, but from fear too. His hands are shaking. On his back, the heavy bag cuts into his right shoulder and leaves him a little off balance. Even though he can't carry the backpack properly he'd refused to let Scorpius do it instead. Scorpius has much bigger problems to deal with than an injured shoulder. 

He scuffs his toes in the snow-covered grass and twists round to see where Scorpius has got to. Last Albus saw, he was neatening up the books on the shelf inside the bothy, but that can't take this long, can it? Albus desperately wishes he'd hurry up. The longer he stands out here the more anxious he feels about the fact that they're going to have to Apparate across half the country. 

He's never been a fan of Apparition: it doesn't feel very nice, and he's found it tricky right from the start. It had taken him ages to pick it up, and now all he can think about is searing pain in his shoulder, smashed potion bottles, and Scorpius's skin going all grey from having to take care of him. He shudders and digs his hands into his pockets. This is going to be awful. 

"Are you ready to go?" Scorpius chirps at him, bouncing out of the house and hugging him from behind. He's been relentlessly cheerful since Albus had found out about the new effect of his illness, like he's trying to reassure Albus that everything is fine. It's not really working, but Albus is doing his best to respond in kind. It's easier for both of them to smile and pretend things are okay, and keep working hard to fix everything that isn't, than to panic and worry and get antsy at each other. They work better as a team. 

Albus sighs and squeezes Scorpius's hands. "Not really. But I don't think I have a choice." 

Scorpius smiles. "We could go and find Sorcha and ask to borrow one of her dragons."

"Oh sure," Albus says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I bet the dragons would love to give us a lift. That's a great way to arrive safely in Godric's Hollow in one piece and without being spotted."

Scorpius laughs and kisses him on the cheek. "Dry humour and Albus-y, just the way I like you."

Albus nudges him. "That wasn't meant to be funny. It was meant to be a statement of fact. Dragon riding is a bad idea." 

Scorpius grins and nudges him back. "Alright. You have a point. But it was also funny." He takes hold of Albus's hand and squeezes it tight. "Are you ready?" 

Albus looks up at Scorpius. His eyes shine silver under the heavy grey skies, bright and glittering from his smile. Albus is always amazed that something iron grey can look so soft and warm, but Scorpius's gaze is never cold. It has the quality of a gossamer blanket, or rolling grey mist at the beginning of a beautiful summer's day. There's so much openness in that gaze, and Albus trusts the person behind it implicitly. To the death.

He nods. "I think so. Will the backpack be a problem? I don't want to put you off balance."

"It'll be okay," Scorpius says. "I promise." 

His grip is strong and reassuring. Albus leans against his side and clutches tight to him, careful not to put too much pressure on his poisoned arm. 

"I trust you," he murmurs. "Go on.' 

There's a beat of stillness, then Scorpius turns, guiding Albus with him. It's the most careful and competent Side-along Apparition Albus has ever been part of, a stark contrast to Scorpius's normal off-balance flailing, and he's very grateful for it. 

As the crushing blackness envelops them, Scorpius tightens his grip on Albus, holding him close and firm, and as they twirl out into a rainy field, Scorpius is careful to steady Albus and keep him upright. They both hold onto each other for support for a moment, then Scorpius gives Albus a smile. 

"Still intact?" 

Albus nods, catching his breath. His shoulder is twinging a bit, and his knees feel wobbly with relief. It's so good to be back on solid ground. 

He slumps down in the rain-soaked grass and gulps in several lungfuls of air. It's fresh, and all the salt from the sea is gone, which is actually quite nice. This place feels more like home than Scotland had, and Albus is all too aware that Ottery St Catchpole isn't far from here, which feels both comforting and dangerous all at once. This is as close to home as he dares to get until the potion is done.

"Shall we get the cloak out?" Scorpius asks, giving the bag on Albus's back a little pat. 

Albus nods and swings it off his shoulder, then he lies down in the grass and closes his eyes, feeling the rain patter down on his face. It sploshes across his skin, soaking his clothes and hair. It's a stupid thing to do, he should be casting an Umbrella Charm or something helpful like that, but he's so tired, and it's easier to just lie here. 

There's something about having found Fawkes that makes him feel less stressed and scared. They're not relying on anyone else now. They don't need to find any other creatures. It's all down to their own wits, and how quick and sensible they are. Everything is within their control and they can _do_ this. They can do it together. 

A smile spreads across his face as he thinks about it, as he lets himself see the finish-line for the first time. They're going to save Scorpius's life and it's going to be incredible. 

Apparently he's smiling enough for Scorpius to have noticed, because a moment later he feels Scorpius's wet boot nudge him in the ribs. 

"You're getting all muddy." 

Albus opens one eye, and looks up at him. "I know."

"And you're getting soaked to the skin."

Albus spreads his arms out in the grass. "I know." 

"You'll regret that later," Scorpius says, pointing a finger at him. "What are you smiling about, anyway?" 

"I won't regret it," Albus says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair to brush away the water. "I can do a Drying Charm." 

"I'd hope so too," Scorpius says. "You're taking your N.E.W.T.s this year, and they test those." 

Albus swats at him. "No talking about school. We have enough to worry about without exams too." 

Scorpius smiles. "Fair enough. What are you looking so happy about, anyway? I saw that little grin." He bends down and tickles one of the dimples in Albus's cheeks. Albus ducks away from him. 

"You're weird, I hope you know that. And I'm smiling because..." He catches hold of Scorpius's hand and kisses the knuckles. He tries to ignore the fact that the dark green is spreading out through the visible veins in Scorpius's hand and fingers now, and that the skin around it is going grey. Instead he swallows and ploughs on. "Because, we're really close to having all the ingredients we need. Everything else we can get without too much trouble...

"We," he smiles up at Scorpius, "are about cure you." 

"We have two items," Scorpius points out. "Two on a list of six. So technically we aren't even halfway there." 

"You're a spoilsport," Albus says, dragging himself to his feet. "We're about to get the third one, and then we'll _definitely_ be nearly there." He takes the Cloak from Scorpius's grip and swings it over them both. "Come on. To Godric's Hollow! We have remnants of a sacrifice to find." 

 

They make their awkward way down the lane that leads into Godric's Hollow past St Jerome's. It's difficult with two of them walking abreast, especially when Scorpius has to bow his head to keep his feet from being visible, and cars keep rushing past. At one point they have to flatten themselves into a bush to avoid getting run over, and when they emerge, Albus somehow has leaves in his hair. Scorpius picks them out and ruffles the Cloak to get rid of the few twigs and leaves that have attached themselves to the outside. 

Rain splashes on the Cloak and dribbles down the outside, and Albus hopes it isn't creating a weird effect in the air. That would be a sure sign of someone being there but hidden, and he's certain that Muggles wouldn't react well to something like that. He's even more certain that anyone searching for them will look for exactly that sort of sign. But he has no way of checking what anyone can see, so he just has to trust the Cloak to do its job.

"It's Death's cloak," Scorpius says, looking up at the raindrops pattering down above their heads, like he's reading Albus's mind and answering his thoughts and fears. "I don't think Death would need to worry about being seen because of some rain..." 

"Isn't it being Death's cloak just a kids' story?" Albus asks. "It wasn't really his. Some clever wizard just made it one day, and it's the best one in existence." 

Scorpius shrugs. "I like the Death version. I always liked to imagine I could have words with him about taking Mum too soon." 

Albus glances at him, smiling. "You want to have words with Death?" 

Scorpius nods. "Lots of words. I have a whole speech prepared for if I ever meet him." 

"Of course you do," Albus says, with a despairing but fond sigh. "Of course you do." 

When they reach the edge of town they skirt past St Jerome's. They both stare up at the big rose window at the back, and Albus can't help but think about his dad. They'd visited here only just last summer. The church had been renovated inside, but all the things they remembered had been there. And the window had sent sparkling light down onto the floor at the front of the nave. 

"It's weird being back," Scorpius murmurs. "Weird but cool. This place is like the centre of wizarding history or something. At least, the centre of British wizarding history. Wizarding history in general is very diverse, and- Well, anyway." He bows his head and digs his hands into his pockets. "It's weird." 

"It is," Albus agrees, gazing off into the graveyard. His grandparents are in there somewhere, buried under the wet earth. He wonders if there are any flowers there. He'd left some last time he came, and he's tempted to go back again now, to throw the Cloak off and go and kneel in the sodden grass in front of the rain-soaked stones. That's what he'd do if this were his adventure, but it's not. It's Scorpius's. And Scorpius is looking up ahead, towards the square with the statue, and the little road leading away from it where the ruined house stands crumbling. 

As they cross the square, Scorpius looks up into Lily and James's kind, smiling stone eyes, and he's so fixated on them that he seems to have forgotten to keep his head down. Their feet are showing under the hem of the Cloak, and Albus doesn't trust that no one's watching them. 

"Scorpius," he hisses, nudging him in the ribs. "Keep your head down. People might see." 

"Sorry!" Scorpius squeaks, ducking his head again. "Sorry. I was just thinking... it looks a lot like her, doesn't it?"

Albus glances at the carved Lily and nods. "They got my granddad's hair right too." 

"It's just like yours," Scorpius says with a smile.

Albus runs a slightly self-conscious hand through his hair. It's even messier than usual, windswept and wild, not washed in water for days. He knows it's all over the place. "It is a bit."

"I think seeing them was one of my favourite things," Scorpius muses. "Them and Bathilda." 

"I cannot believe you had favourite bits from our twenty-four hours in hell," Albus says. "You're such an enormous geek." 

"Of course I had favourite bits," Scorpius says, looking at him. "Even if it had all been awful I would have hated some parts less than others. But it wasn't all awful." He points across the square to the road winding away towards the Potters' ruined house. "That's where my dad hugged me," he says. "Right there in front of that house with the green door and the roses. That's one of the best things that's ever happened to me." He starts walking towards the door, and Albus sticks close beside him.

"He didn't come near me after Mum died," Scorpius says quietly. "Even before she died... I think the last time we hugged was on the platform before I met you for the first time. It was like... like he didn't know what to do with me. And then Mum died and it got worse. She was always the one who took care of us both. Without her... we were a disaster." 

"You could have been more of a disaster," Albus mutters, digging his hands into his pockets. 

Scorpius glances at him. "Could we? I know we never had shouting matches, or told each other-" he scratches the back of his neck. "We just didn't talk. And I think sometimes silence is worse. It feels lonely, lonely and stifling, and there's never chance to say any of the things you need to, so they just boil away inside and make you miserable..." He scuffs his toe on the ground and wraps his arms round himself. "We needed Mum to sort us out, but she wasn't there, and we missed her. And I missed Dad, except you know how weird Dad is. I didn't know if I was allowed to miss him, or if he missed me too, or if I was just being stupid about the whole thing..." He shakes his head. "It was awful." 

He rubs the heel of his right hand against his left wrist and stares across the road at the bare rose bush crawling around the edge of the window. "I think sometimes we hurt each other just as much as you and your dad did, just because we couldn't manage to look at each other or say a word. It's harder than you'd think, being silent. I didn't even realise until I was in that other world that my dad really cared about me." 

"But your dad's always loved you," Albus says, looking at Scorpius. "He thinks the world of you." _Even more than I do,_ he thinks. _If that's possible._

Scorpius shrugs. "I know that now. But I didn't always. It wasn't until I was in that other world... When I stood up to him he just looked so-" he shakes his head. "So proud. I'd never seen him look like that before. And he wasn't even _my_ dad, so I didn't know if it was real until I got here." He gestures at the road. "And I dared to try and hug him, and he told me I could. And then we never stopped." A beautiful, slightly sad smile crosses his lips, and he gives a soft sigh. 

Albus reaches out and strokes a hand down his arm. "You'll see him soon. I promise." 

Scorpius nods. "I know. But I miss him still. And it hurts. Sometimes literally." 

"Does it hurt now?" Albus asks. Scorpius is so good at hiding his pain and his feelings, and Albus hasn't noticed any signs, but that doesn't mean anything. And now Albus looks closer, he thinks Scorpius might look a bit paler than he had a short while ago. There's a sickly colour to his face, and he keeps pressing his right hand against his left wrist. 

"It always hurts these days," Scorpius says, avoiding his eyes. "But we have to do this, so I'll be fine." He turns and takes hold of Albus's hand. "You know, Dad wasn't the only good part about everything that happened. You made it pretty special too. I'd still want you to be my companion for the return of eternal darkness. In fact..." he pauses and takes a very deep breath, like he's trying to steady himself. "You sort of are right now. This illness is definitely-" He wrenches his hand from Albus's grip suddenly and presses it against his heart, bowing his head and screwing his face up. "Definitely darkness. I just hope..." He gives a soft gasp and tightens his grip on his chest. "Ow. I-I hope it isn't... isn't eternal." 

He manages to get out the last few words before his legs buckle beneath him, and he slumps sideways and collapses onto the damp ground with a groan. 

Albus throws himself onto the ground next to him and makes sure the Cloak is still tucked round them both. Scorpius is shaking, and his face is screwed up from the pain. He looks like he's about to be sick. 

"Scorpius," Albus says, soft and urgent. "Are you okay?" 

"Fine," he gasps, one hand still clamped against his chest, the other on the road for support. "Totally-" He breaks off with a little whimper and ducks his head down. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Albus asks. He's panicking, and his hands are trembling. He's seen Scorpius look bad before, but there's something about this that seems even worse. All the colour has drained from Scorpius's face, and he's gone very still and tense, like he's trying to protect himself by not moving a muscle. He's so good at hiding his pain, that to see him unable to do so is terrifying. "Is there a spell? Or- or I don't know. Tell me how to help." 

For a moment Scorpius doesn't move or say anything, and he seems to be gathering his strength. Then he pushes himself upright onto his heels and holds his left hand out to Albus. "Help me." 

"You haven't told me how," Albus says, taking hold of his hand. "What do you-" 

"Help me get up!" Scorpius says, voice rising all of a sudden, high-pitched and hysterical. He sounds scared. 

"Scorpius..." Albus says. "I don't know if- Maybe you should rest instead." He squeezes Scorpius's hand tight, and puts a hand on his back. "There's that Muggle pub on the edge of the square. I think it's a hotel too. Maybe we could stay there for tonight, or-"

"No," Scorpius says. "No no no." He pulls his hand from Albus's and starts trying to struggle to his feet, but he doesn't seem to have the strength anymore, and he falls back onto the road, sprawling out, the Cloak sliding off him. 

Albus rushes to cover him again. "Scorpius, I don't think you should be going anywhere right now. You don't look good. We need to find somewhere safe." 

"No!" Scorpius repeats. "We don't need to- to do anything, except get to that house. Now help me get up off the floor, Albus." 

"But-"

"Now!" 

Albus sits down on the ground and blinks at him in surprise. It's so unusual for Scorpius to be forceful. He can argue and fight his corner for sure, but he doesn't get worked up unless it's something really important. And of course this is important, but they have time. Not much, but a bit. Enough to rest at least. 

"We need to go," Scorpius says, lowering his voice and looking down at his hands. "Albus, I'm serious." 

"Can't we even take an hour?" Albus asks, trying to keep himself steady, trying to stay reasonable. This isn't the moment to fight. "We haven't eaten properly in days, maybe that's partly why you- Why you can't stand." 

"It's not," Scorpius says. He looks up and meets Albus's eyes, and his expression is scared but full of fierce determination. "You remember that awful green stuff in my arm? All that poison?" 

Albus swallows and nods. How could he have possibly forgotten. 

"It's been spreading," Scorpius says, matter of fact and purposeful. "And I think it's just reached my legs. It's going faster, Albus. And sitting here," he gestures around them. "With all these memories? This isn't helping to make it slow down." He takes a breath. "So no. We don't have an hour. We don't have any time at all. I want to move now, while I still can, and I want to do it fast. Understand me? So." He holds his left hand out to Albus again. "Stop being concerned, and help me." 

Albus doesn't argue. 

He chokes down all the hundreds of words he wants to say, and all the tears he wants to cry, and he puts an arm round Scorpius and helps him scramble to his feet. It's difficult, working around the backpack, and Scorpius's hand presses against his injured shoulder, but he grits his teeth and struggles not to make a sound.

"You might have to hold me," Scorpius murmurs, testing his legs once he's upright. "I don't want to fall again. It's a bit wet down there." 

"I've got you," Albus says, hoping he doesn't sound like he's fighting against fear, panic, and pain. Hoping he sounds strong and dependable. 

"Thanks," Scorpius says, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

"The house is just up here," Albus says, just for something to say, because they both know perfectly well where the house is. Scorpius nods though, like this is new information, and together they set off along the road. 

It's not very far, but that doesn't make it easy going. The Cloak keeps slipping, so they have to keep stopping to adjust it. Albus's shoulder is still aching where Scorpius used it to push himself off the ground. The backpack keeps falling off his other shoulder, and he has to pull it back up every few seconds. Scorpius is walking with a slight limp. He doesn't seem to like the idea of putting much weight on his left leg, but at the same time, it seems to be hurting him to keep gripping Albus's waist, and Albus is worried about how long he's going to manage to stay upright. 

"Would it be easier for you to put your arm round my shoulders?" He asks. 

Scorpius glances at him. "Maybe, but it won't be easier for you." 

"I don't care about me," Albus says, heaving the backpack over both his shoulders and wincing. "Just do it." 

Scorpius hesitates for a moment, then he slides his arm round Albus's shoulders, and Albus supports him under the arms. 

"Tell me if it hurts too much," Scorpius says. Albus doesn't say anything in response, just starts helping Scorpius up the street. In truth it hurts like hell, but he tries to focus on the fact that whatever Scorpius is going through is worse, and that his shoulder will heal, but Scorpius might not unless they get this done. 

After five excruciating minutes spent inching their way up the street, they reach the house. Albus is exhausted from the pain, and the effort of having to hold Scorpius up, and Scorpius looks like he's about to drop too. They both release their grip on each other, and lean against the wall for support. Albus notices that both their feet are sticking out from under the cloak now, but there's no one around, and he doesn't have the energy to sort it out. 

"I suppose I should go in," Scorpius says once he's caught his breath. He eyes the gate, apprehensive. "Is this even allowed? It feels wrong to even think about it..." 

"You can do it," Albus says firmly. "I'm a Potter, and if I say you can do it then I think you can. I don't think Dad would have a problem with it. I mean, you were with us when they died. You're a part of the history of this place. I think you have a right to do it." 

Scorpius looks at him for a moment, and when he speaks there's a bright, excitable curiosity to his voice that cuts through his exhaustion and pain. "Do you think that's true? That I'm part of the history of Godric's Hollow?" 

Albus nods. "Of course! You helped stop Delphi. And if we hadn't done that then Voldemort would never have tried to kill my dad. You saved the world. You made this happen, and you helped make sure my dad could still kill Voldemort in the end." 

Scorpius lights up. "Wow," he squeaks. "I'd never really thought of it that way before." He clasps his hands together and grins. "I'm part of history. That's exciting!" 

Albus smiles. "Yes you are."

"Okay!" Scorpius says, breathless and still high-pitched. "Well in that case..." He pushes the Invisibility Cloak off him and limps across to the gate.  

"Scorpius!" Albus hisses. "Why did you take the Cloak off? Come back here." 

Scorpius waves him away. "It's fine. No one's watching. And I want to do this properly. I don't want to sneak in." He pushes the gate open with a creak, and steps inside. 

As he does, the sign rises up from the ground, and Albus can see the black mess of graffiti from over forty years' worth of messages. So many of them talk about the sacrifice Lily and James made, and thank them and Harry for everything they've done, and Albus gets a sudden sense that the overwhelming love and gratitude surrounding this place will stand them in excellent stead. This ingredient will be a strong one. 

Scorpius holds onto the garden gate for as long as he can before letting go and limping alone down the path. The surface is all cracked, and there are weeds growing rampant through the gaps in the paving. Around the sides of the path, the garden is a wild jungle, rain drenched and full of shrivelled, dead plants from all the cold weather. In the summer there were wild flowers growing in here, but there's nothing beautiful about it now really. It looks sad, the way gardens in winter always do. 

Debris from the blown-up house litters the path and garden, fragments of brick and charred timber. Albus can clearly remember how ash had rained down like snow and settled in their hair, coating everything nearby. Most of that has blown away now, but the occasional flurry of white blows across the path. 

"Your grandma reminded us of Mum," Scorpius says, glancing over his shoulder as he pauses for a moment to catch his breath. "Beautiful and kind. Brave. Loving. Don't you think it's cruel that the best people don't seem to get to live?" 

Albus looks right at him and nods. "Yes," he says. "I do." 

Scorpius bows his head and nudges his toe against a bit of brick. "It's not fair. But you know. Life isn't fair, so." He gives a twisted little smile, then turns and keeps walking until he gets to the house. 

"What do you think?" He calls when he reaches it. "What should we take?" 

Albus shrugs and leans over the wall, trying to see what's on the ground near him. "What do you want?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "It feels wrong to take any of it. And there's not much left." 

"You have to," Albus tells him. "Maybe some ash or a bit of brick. That would do it." 

Scorpius gazes around his feet, giving it a moment of careful consideration, then he stoops down, moving gingerly, and picks something up from the ground. It takes him considerable effort to straighten back up, and he sways on his feet before limping back to Albus, holding it out in his hand. "This?" He asks, reaching a hand out to Albus for support. 

"What is it?" Albus asks, stepping through the gate to get a closer look, and gripping Scorpius tight to hold him up. 

"I think it's from a mobile or something," Scorpius says, and as Albus joins him, he can see a little wooden broomstick, tied to a star by a damp piece of thread. Both the bits of wood are chipped, and the paint is flaking off. They're covered in dust and mud, and one of the points of the star has been charred and damaged. Albus thinks the pieces look like they were made by hand, put together with love and care and attention, and probably a good bit of magic. 

"Do you think this would work?" Scorpius asks. "You're the potions expert." 

"I think it's perfect," Albus says, reaching out to run his fingers over the broomstick. "It's a leftover piece of my grandparents' love for my dad. I think it's exactly what we're looking for. Better than a generic bit of brick anyway."

Scorpius smiles and nods. "That's what I thought." He slips the bit of wood into his pocket. "So, where are we going-" 

Before he can finish his sentence, three loud cracks split the air. Albus recognises them as Apparition sounds, and for some reason his brain screams at him to shield.

Without hesitation, he draws his wand and casts the spell without a word, slashing the familiar pattern through the air in front of him and Scorpius. Not a moment too soon the silvery shimmer of the barrier spreads out around them, and three streaks of red bounce off it. Stunning Spells. Their energy crackles and disperses across the shield with a sound like lightning, and Albus knows that those spells were cast by trained, skilled wizards. No amateur could put that much force into them. 

His dad's Aurors have found them. 

"Scorpius," he says, tugging on his arm. "We need to get out of here now. We need to-" He swallows. He knows exactly what they need to do but he can't do it, he doesn't trust himself, and he doesn't know if Scorpius is well enough to do it. Panic rushes up inside him and he tightens his grip on his wand with one hand, and Scorpius's arm with the other. "We need to Apparate. But-" He can feel his breathing getting all tight at the memory of crushing blackness, and intense pain. "But I can't." 

"Let me," Scorpius says, forcing himself upright. He looks determined, but he's so pale, and he seems so unsteady. 

Albus shakes his head. "No, I'll-" Three more Stunners hit the shield, and he can see figures in the road now. 

"Stay where you are!" One of them shouts, and Albus recognises the voice but he can't put a name to it. "Don't move." 

"I'll do it," he says.

"Albus-" 

"No!" Albus says, voice rising. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes tight shut. He can do this. He can do this. He _can_ do this. "Three. Two. One." His heart races and he feels sick, but he braces himself and twists sideways, gathering Scorpius along with him. 

The moment of pressure is almost too much to bear. He feels claustrophobic and terrified. He can't breathe. He wants to cry or faint or run away. But there's nowhere to run to, trapped here between places. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. 

Then he falls sideways into solid reality and collapses, Scorpius on top of him, into a muddy field where he'd once walked with his family. Now he really is screaming, and it rips through the air. As soon as he realises he's making sound he stops and lies panting, holding his shoulder, amazed to find himself whole and alive. 

And when he realises they're both okay, he remembers how much danger they're in. A sense of dread floods over him, brought about by a cold, creeping sensation prickling the back of his neck. Like he's being watched. 

They're being watched.

"Scorpius!" He gasps, voice raw and hoarse. "Get up! We need to run." 

Scorpius sits up and runs a hand through his hair. He looks really sick. A sort of faint, grey-ish green colour, and he's moving like all his limbs are weighing him down. "But we Apparated away from them." 

"They followed-" 

_Crack!_

Albus seizes Scorpius's hand and hauls him off the ground. "Come on. We need to go." He hugs Scorpius tight, aware that Scorpius isn't keeping up and determined to protect him at all costs. "Just hold on." He feels Scorpius's grip tighten on his jacket, and he twists around and Apparates. In the split second before they disappear, he feels the burn of spells missing him by inches.

The Apparition isn't so bad this time. He still squeezes his eyes shut, he still panics at not being able to breathe, he still anticipates pain in every moment, but this time it seems to be over a lot quicker, and he doesn't fall on landing. He stays perfectly upright, and manages to keep Scorpius up too, even as he fumbles in his pocket for his wand. 

"What's happening?" Scorpius asks, groggy and confused. "Where are we?" 

"The field near your dad's house, where we meet those Bowtruckles last Easter."

"Oh," Scorpius says faintly. "I remember." He smiles a bit, and slumps down in Albus's arms, a dead weight, eyes fluttering closed. 

Albus struggles to hold him. "Scorpius," he says. "Stay with me. I just need to-" There's no time to talk so he doesn't.

Last summer his dad had taught him spells, spells that let you hide from people, and spells that can break Surveillance Charms. They'd practiced back and forth, and his dad had always used this spell on him, the one that feels cold and prickles the back of his neck. He knows exactly how to counter it, even though it's one of the most difficult ones. 

He starts muttering under his breath, spitting the words out as fast as he can. Scorpius shifts in his arms, and his eyelids flutter. He peeks up at Albus. 

"You're hot when you're doing difficult incantations."

"Shut up!" Albus scolds him. "Let me concentrate." 

"Sorry," Scorpius murmurs, and he closes his eyes again. 

Albus speaks louder and faster as he rattles through the spell. Behind his back he hears the cracks of Apparition and spells being shouted. He ducks his head, shielding Scorpius with his body, and the spells miss them by inches. He stumbles over his words but presses on, and finally he gets to the end of the string of Latin, flicks his wand, and he feels the cold weight lift. 

"I'm going to Apparate again," he tells Scorpius. "Hold onto me." And without hesitation he flings himself and Scorpius sideways into nothing, until they land heavily behind a tree in a familiar front garden, and Albus starts hauling Scorpius down to the path towards the door. When he reaches it, he lets Scorpius sink onto the ground, hammers with the door knocker, and starts yelling for his brother to let them in. 

 

The pair of Aurors close the door quietly behind them as they leave, like they're afraid of aggravating Harry, but it's too late. He's already aggravated. He paces in tight circles behind his desk, raking his fingers through his hair, at a loss for what to do. 

He's not entirely sure how to process the information that's just been presented to him. It's too much. It's unthinkable. And he knows exactly what Draco is going to think when he tells him. Draco is going to think it's entirely his fault. Which maybe it is, just a little bit, but he hadn't anticipated- 

His son has just evaded two of the best trackers in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, using spells that Harry taught him over warm, joyous days last summer. He used knowledge that Harry imparted. And not only did he handle the spells perfectly, but he did it all while supporting Scorpius, who sounds like he's desperately ill. Even though he knows he shouldn't, Harry feels impressed with him. Those spells aren't easy to pull off, even for the best Aurors, and Albus did them under pressure and made a clean escape. 

The Aurors have no idea where he is now. They saw him and Scorpius take something from the ruined house, and after a couple of jumps they just vanished into thin air, because there wasn't chance to restore the spells on them. 

Frustration and pride battle away inside him. He wants his son back. Draco wants _his_ son back. But what Albus has done is brilliant, shows loyalty and ingenuity, and Harry can't help but think that one day very soon, his son is going to make an excellent Auror. 

Draco is going to kill him. He's going to kill both of them. There's nothing Harry wants less in the world than to own up to Draco that Scorpius has slipped through his fingers yet again. But he has no choice. Unfortunately. And if he doesn't confess soon, it will be even worse. Resigned, he flops down in his seat, puts his feet up on the desk, and draws his wand.

"Expecto Patronum," he says with a sigh, imagining Albus holding off his best Aurors with a complex bit of spellwork. The stag comes shooting out of the end of his wand, trots round in a circle, apparently uncertain about being in such a confined space, then finally faces Harry when he clears his throat.

"I need you to take an urgent message to Draco Malfoy," he says, squinting a bit against the bright light. "Tell him: 'I've just had word from the Aurors in Godric's Hollow. Come to the Ministry immediately. You can Floo straight into my office.'" He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "That's all." 

The stag bows his head, then turns and gallops a step before disappearing in a dazzling burst of silver. Harry blinks several times to clear his vision. For a second or two he sits in silence, perfectly still, then he leans forward and picks a report off the top of his mountain of paperwork. He might as well do something productive while he's waiting to meet his doom. 

He doesn't get far with the report. He's read about two sentences when there's a rush of wind, and the fire glows emerald. He tosses the report onto the desk and gets to his feet as Draco tumbles out onto the carpet. 

It's not Draco's most elegant entrance. It looks as though he'd thrown himself head first into the fireplace, desperate to get here as fast as he could. He bursts to his feet, smooths his robes down, and strides across to Harry, face set and pale, eyes blazing. 

"Where is he?"

"Draco," Harry says, holding up a hand to slow him down, and trying to work out what to say. 

"Where is Scorpius?" Draco insists, not stopping for a second. When he reaches Harry's desk he taps his fingers on it impatiently. "Have they taken him to St Mungo's? Tell me where my son is, Potter. Right now." 

Harry takes a deep breath and looks down at the desk. "I don't know." 

Draco's fingers clench, and he looks like he's trying very hard to contain himself. His voice goes low and menacing. "What do you mean, you don't know?" 

Harry looks up at him. "They got away." 

Draco blinks, then he shakes his head. "I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Did you just say that our sons have escaped you again?" 

Harry tries to think of something to say, some way to explain, but his mind is blank and there's nothing he can do. "I'm sorry, Draco. I- I'm sorry." 

There's a very long, very ominous silence, then Draco takes a step away from the desk, turning his back on Harry. "Are you going to explain to me how a pair of teenage boys escaped from your most highly trained Aurors?" He glances back at Harry, and his eyes are narrowed. He looks dangerous. 

Harry bows his head and looks down at his hands. "They, uh- Albus. He used a spell. He broke through the Surveillance Spell my Aurors put on him. It was supposed to allow us to track him and Scorpius, but he knew how to stop the spell. And once he'd removed the spell..." Harry shrugs and claps his hands together. "They Disapparated." He looks up at Draco. "That's all I can tell you." 

Draco draws himself up very straight and puts his hands in his pockets. He takes a couple of very deep breaths, then he turns to Harry. "And can you explain how Albus came to know such a spell?" He leans his hands in the desk. "I know the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum at Hogwarts is rigorous, but counter-surveillance spells aren't included, are they? I certainly haven't heard Scorpius mention them." He sounds dangerously calm and casual, and Harry knows he's trapped. 

He takes a step back from the desk. "I taught Albus the spell," he says, quick and quiet, half hoping Draco won't hear. 

"You?" Draco asks.

Harry nods and stands up straighter. He can't match Draco in height, but he can own up to what he's done. "Yes. Last summer. Albus's ambition is to become an Auror, and those sorts of spells are useful to know. I thought they might be a fun challenge for him." 

"A fun challenge," Draco repeats turning away again. He begins to pace back and forth across the rug in front of the fire. "So is this what you do on your days off?" He asks. "Train your own brood of mini Aurors?"

"Mostly we just play Quidditch," Harry mutters. "But Albus doesn't like Quidditch, so we..." He shrugs. 

"You teach him advanced counter-surveillance techniques," Draco says, nodding, voice dripping with disdain. "Of course." 

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I'll admit it may not have been the best idea I've ever had-"

"You can say that again." 

"But," Harry says, holding a hand up to stop him. "I didn't expect him to be so good at it. I especially didn't expect him to use it against us. It's exceptionally advanced magic, Draco, and Selby is one of the best we've got. He's a specialist in these sorts of charms." 

"Apparently," Draco says with a sneer, "so is your son." 

Harry folds his arms and glares at him. "I'm sorry. I can't go back and un-teach him the spell. All I can do is apologise."

"That's not good enough," Draco says. "That was one of our best chances of catching them. There's no telling the damage you've just done." 

"So what do you want me to do?" Harry asks, voice rising with his temper. "There's nothing I _can_ do. Be reasonable."

Draco looks at him for an uncomfortably long few seconds, then he shakes his head. "No." 

"Then I can't help you." Harry sits down at his desk, anger and frustration simmering inside him. "Get out of my office, Draco. Come back when you're going to do something other than criticise." 

"My son is dying!" Draco roars, hand slamming down on the desk hard enough to make Harry jump. He braces himself against the surface and looks Harry dead on, eyes sparkling with malice and tears. "My son isn't going to come home, because you're too much of an idiot to distinguish what spells are appropriate to be taught to children. Is that something you can even begin to comprehend?"

Harry swallows. "Yes," he says, in a voice of forced calm. "Yes I can comprehend. I can comprehend perfectly." 

"So what are you going to do about it?" Draco asks. He glances at Harry, then turns his back. 

"We still have one chance," Harry says, studying the desktop, to give Draco the opportunity to wipe his eyes without being seen if he wants to. "The charms around the wand shards." 

"Are you sure you haven't taught your son how to disable traps too?" Draco asks. 

"Of course there's a chance of him getting through," Harry says. "And there's a chance of Scorpius getting through the trap too. They're both excellent wizards." 

Draco stands very still for a while, and he seems to be struggling with the truth of Harry's comments. While he stands there he twists his wedding ring round his finger, shoulders back, head up, composing himself. Finally he turns to face Harry, and his face is even paler than usual. 

"Did the Aurors say how Scorpius looked?" He asks, voice low and steady. "Anything about his condition?" 

"They said-" Harry considers his words carefully. "They said he didn't look... They said he seemed to be struggling." 

Draco's fists clench, and he nods, looking away towards the empty portrait on Harry's wall. 

"Albus was helping him," Harry continues. "Holding him up. They seem to be taking care of one another at least." 

"Of course they are," Draco says. "They love each other." 

"They do," Harry agrees.

Draco turns on his heel and begins to pace in front of the fire. "I wish-" he breaks off, shaking his head. "I wish this wasn't happening to my son." 

Harry bows his head. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. 

"Sometimes I wonder if this is all my fault," Draco says, and his voice sounds fragile, like he might shatter at any moment. "If this is punishment for the crimes I committed when I was younger. Sometimes I-" He takes a breath. "But no world is that cruel. No crime warrants this. To take Scorpius. It's vindictive. There's nothing else it can be." He spins on his heel, fingers running incessantly round the edge of his wedding ring, like he's trying to get some sort of comfort from it. "The most terrible people thrive, I survive, and my son is the one who suffers like this... It's not right. It's not..." He considers for a second. "It's not fair." 

"No," Harry says softly. "No, it's not." 

"When Astoria was taken-" Draco breaks off and looks down at his ring, then he closes his eyes and holds onto it. "When Astoria was taken I could almost understand that. We knew she wouldn't survive much after thirty. But this? He's a child. He's saved the world twice, he has so much to give, so much life to live."

"You shouldn't give up on him," Harry says. "He's still alive. We may not know where he is but we know that at least. And we're still searching. We'll find him, if he can be found, and we'll bring him home. Trust me." 

Draco looks at him, very steady. "Trust you?"

"Yes." 

Draco shakes his head. "Get me my son back. Then I might consider trusting you." 


	14. James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Scorpius visit James for some brotherly TLC, and James helps them come up with a plan to get the next ingredient.

"JAMES!" Albus yells, battering his palm against the door. "Let us in for Merlin's sake!" His voice is hoarse and his knuckles are aching. He's been hammering fruitlessly on the door for ten minutes already, and while it's obvious James isn't in there, he can't stop. 

It's tipping down with rain now, and both he and Scorpius are soaked, hair plastered to their heads, clothes clinging to them like a soggy second skin. The rain is bitterly cold, and Albus knows they need to get inside sooner rather than later. Scorpius is huddled against the wall, shivering, teeth chattering, paler than ever before. 

Albus has seen him look like death so many times in the last few months, but never like this, and it's terrifying. It makes Albus want to break the door down, just to get Scorpius to safety, but he's aware that if he did that the Threshold Charms might trigger and alert people, possibly even his dad, so all he can do is keep banging on the door in the hope that James has Flooed home and will hear them. 

It's getting dark. The sky above them is fading to blackness, and the shadows are lengthening. James has to get home from practice sometime soon. He has to. And if he doesn't... 

"James," Albus says, banging his fist on the door, then slumping forward and leaning his forehead on the wood. "Please." His voice breaks with fear and exhaustion. His shoulder is stinging and aching. He doesn't know if Scorpius is conscious. He wants warmth and food and comfort for both of them. He wants his brother. 

He closes his eyes and cold water drips down his nose and off the back of his hair, tickling the back of his neck. He wants to cry. He reaches out and touches the top of Scorpius's head, to see if he's awake, to let him know he's still here with him. 

"Okay?" He asks quietly. 

"Yeah," Scorpius breathes, reaching up to take his hand. "My leg hurts." His fingers are freezing too, and Albus crouches down next to him and wraps both arms around him. 

"I know. I'm sorry. He should be here soon."

Scorpius curls his fingers into Albus's jacket, and buries his face in his shoulder. "It's not your fault... If it wasn't for you we would have been caught by now." He gives Albus a squeeze. "You were amazing with those Aurors." 

Albus shakes his head. He strokes his fingers gently through Scorpius's soaked hair. "It was just a spell."

"Well, it was a very good one," Scorpius murmurs. "You're my-" He draws in a breath, like he's been hit with a sudden burst of pain. "You're my hero." 

"Sshh," Albus whispers. 

"I don't suppose," Scorpius says, teeth chattering, voice weak, "that you can spare me a Warming Charm?"

"Yes," Albus says, pulling back and drawing his wand. "Of course I can. I'm sorry, I should have done it earlier, I-" 

"Albus?" 

Albus breaks off mid-sentence as he hears his brother calling up the garden path. He turns to see James, wand in the air, an Umbrella Charm folding over his head, Quidditch bag bouncing on his back. His black curls are soaked, and he's staring at Albus in amazement. 

"What on earth are you doing here?" He asks. "And Scorpius? What's he- What's going on?" James hurries down the path to them and stops dead a few metres away, his expression slowly transforming from surprise to anger. He lowers his wand and points a finger at Albus. "Do you have any idea what you've done to Mum and Dad? They've been scared senseless. Dad's had Aurors out looking for you." 

"I know!" Albus says. "James, I know. But this is..." he gestures helplessly to Scorpius, who's curled up in a shivering heap. "This is important." 

"I should tell them," James says. "I should tell them you're here." 

"No!" Albus feels fear and desperation rush up inside him. He'd thought James would take care of them, that they'd be safe here. "No, you have to understand! Please! We need your help. We can explain everything. We just need a few hours, we-" He looks down at Scorpius again, at his pale face, how he's shaking uncontrollably. "Please. Let us come in." 

James looks down at Scorpius for a moment, then he looks at Albus, scanning him from head to foot. "You've got blood on you," he says finally. "What have you done to yourself?" 

Albus shakes his head. "It's not important." 

"You've got a _lot_ of blood. I know you're hurt," James says, giving him a hard look. "Come inside and I'll have a look at it. You both look like you need some warmth. And some food." 

"But you won't tell-" 

James holds a hand up. "Albus. Please. Stop panicking and come inside. I'm not going to tell anyone anything."

"Are you-" 

"Sure? Yes. But I might not be if you don't calm down." James tucks his wand away and walks up to the door, laying his palm on it and murmuring a couple of words. The door swings open and he glances back at them. "Come on. Let's get you both inside." 

Albus hesitates for a moment, then he stoops down and offers Scorpius a hand. "Can you stand?" 

Scorpius nods and hauls himself to his feet, clawing at Albus's clothes. "Fine." He sways alarmingly, and Albus wraps both arms round him, holding him steady. 

They make their way into the house, Albus pausing briefly to kick his shoes off, and dump his backpack and both their coats, before he follows James down the tiled hall. Their clothes drip, and Albus knows they're making a mess, but he can't help it. He can't do much when he's trying to stop Scorpius from falling. 

"Do you want tea?" James calls from the kitchen.

Albus looks at Scorpius, who gives a small shake of his head. 

"No thank you," he calls back to his brother. "Are you sure?" He asks, lowering his voice and stroking a hand down Scorpius's back. "Don't you need to warm up?"

Scorpius pulls a face, and gently extricates himself from Albus's grip. "It's okay," he murmurs. "Go and talk to your brother." 

He stumbles to the doorway into the lounge and leans there for a second, then he hobbles the last few steps to the couch and sinks onto it, shuddering. For a very long moment he just sits there, then he finally pulls all his limbs in and curls up into a little ball. 

Albus draws his wand and starts casting a Drying Charm over him. 

"You don't have to-" Scorpius complains, but Albus shakes his head. 

"I'm doing it. I want to." 

He runs his fingers and wand through Scorpius's hair until it's silky soft, all feathery and curly now it's growing down below his chin. Finely woven golden wisps, that frame his thin, stark white face. Albus starts on his clothes next, working away at them until he's certain they're completely dry. Only then does he cast a Warming Charm over Scorpius, followed by conjuring several blankets and wrapping them round him. 

"Is that better?" He asks. 

Scorpius's eyes are closed, and Albus thinks he might be asleep, but then he nods, the tiniest twitch of his head. Albus leans down and kisses him on the cheek. 

"Rest well," he whispers. 

"Let James fix your shoulder," Scorpius says, and Albus smiles. 

"I'll think about it." 

He tucks the last corner of Scorpius's blanket up against his neck, to keep out any hint of a draft, then he turns and walks to the kitchen to face his brother, head held high, determined to fight to the bitter end if that's what it takes to convince James that this is the only way.

James is bustling around making tea. His wand is drawn, and various bits of mud-splattered, soggy Quidditch kit are floating around the room, some of them covered in soap bubbles, some steaming gently. Albus leans in the doorway and watches the chaos, hoping that James hasn't noticed he's there. 

"Is Scorpius sure he doesn't want any tea?" James asks, glancing round at him. Albus has never been able to hide from his brother. 

"I think he's going to sleep," Albus says. "Maybe later." 

James hesitates, then nods. "Just two teas then."

"I don't want-" 

"Remember how Granny always says tea can fix anything?" James says, cutting across him. "You look like someone who needs fixing. You look like shit, Albus. I'm making you tea." 

Albus opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it. He just stands there, shivering, shoulders hunched and head bowed, waiting for James to start asking questions. 

"Do you need a Warming Charm?" James asks, coming over and pressing a mug of tea into Albus's hands. 

Albus sniffs the tea. "Does this have sugar in it?" 

James draws himself up to his full height, defensive all of a sudden. "Yes." 

Albus pulls a face.

"Yes," James continues, "because this is the best – the _only_ – way to make tea. Now stop being a baby and drink it." 

Albus glares at him for a second, then gives in and takes a gulp of the tea. At the same moment, James casts a Warming Charm and a Drying Charm over him. Albus tries to protest, but it just splutters out because his mouth is full of scalding tea, some of which dribbles down his chin. 

"The tea goes in your mouth," James advises. "Not down your front."

Albus flips him off and wipes his chin on the sleeve of his hoodie. His mouth is too full to speak still, and the mug is almost overflowing so he can't run away or fight his brother off. He has to stand there and endure James drying his hair in a way that makes it stick up as much as possible. 

When Albus has finally drunk enough of the boiling tea that the mug is a bit more empty and his throat is on fire, he ducks away, running a hand through his messed up hair. 

"Did you have to do that?" He asks. 

"You should be more grateful," James says. "I've prevented you getting hypothermia." 

"Is that what you call it," he grumbles, stomping over to the kitchen table and dropping down into a seat. He curls up there and rubs his shoulder, which is stinging again. 

James walks across to the counter, picks up his own mug of tea and takes a sip, then walks over to him. There's no more mischief in his expression, just concern. "Can I look at that?" 

"You won't be able to help." 

"Yes," James says firmly. "I will. I'm very good at Healing spells, thank you very much." 

Albus frowns and looks up at him. "Are you?" 

James nods. "As a matter of fact I am. You get a lot of practice when you play Quidditch for a living. Did you know Alice let me fix her broken arm last week?" 

"I bet she regretted that," Albus mutters. 

James swats at him. "I did an excellent job. Now show me your shoulder. Come on. Hoodie off, shirt off, and I promise I won't make fun of how skinny you are." 

"James!" 

James grins. "I said I wouldn't make fun of you!"

Albus glares at him, but pulls his top off anyway, and sits there with his arms wrapped round himself, shivering even though the kitchen is warm and James's tea is smouldering away inside him. 

James crouches down on the floor next to Albus and draws his wand. He keeps shuffling around on his tiptoes, trying to balance, and he takes a firm hold of Albus's arm to keep it still. 

"Did Scorpius do this? The bandage?" 

"I think so," Albus says, not looking at him. His hands are freezing. "I might not have been completely conscious at the time." 

"What did you do to yourself?" James asks, looking up at him in amazement. "You're supposed to be the healthy one. You almost look as bad as Scorpius, which is saying something." 

"I'm a lot better than Scorpius," Albus replies. 

"Well," James concedes, "yes. I suppose you are. But really Albus. You've bled right through this thing." 

"I... Splinched myself," Albus mutters, hoping it's too quiet for his brother to hear. Unfortunately, James's face lights up like Christmas has come early. 

"You Splinched yourself?" 

Albus nods.

James beams. "You know, I spent years trying to convince everyone that you'd be a liability when you got your licence, but did they listen? No." He starts untying Albus's bandage, his touch very gentle. Albus flinches a couple of times, but not once does James actually hurt him. And when the bandage finally falls away, James gives a quiet gasp. 

" _Albus_..." He looks up, eyes wide. "This is- this isn't good. This is a mess." 

"I know." Albus glances at him. "I'm painfully aware." 

James shakes his head. "I shouldn't have laughed, I'm sorry." He turns Albus's arm gently, inspecting the wound. "Someone's done a reasonable job sorting it out. Did Scorpius do this?" He gestures to the clean, reasonably healed sections where Fawkes's tears had fallen. 

"It was a Phoenix," Albus says. "Dumbledore's Phoenix." 

"Dumbledore's-" James sinks down on his heels and stares up at Albus. "What sort of life do you have? You Splinch yourself while you're on the run with your sick best friend and _Dumbledore's Phoenix_ heals you?"

"I didn't ask for this," Albus says, feeling a flush of anger. "Scorpius didn't ask for this. I don't _like_ any of this. I don't want it. I don't care how many Phoenixes I run into, I just want my boyfriend not to be sick anymore." 

James draws his wand and kneels up again, leaning in close to examine Albus's shoulder. "Your boyfriend? You didn't mention that before. Nor did Mum and Dad. I mean it's hardly a surprise, but-" 

"He might die, James. He might already be dying." He turns and looks toward the doorway, at the tiny fraction of the lounge he can see. Scorpius is in there. Asleep. Getting sicker and sicker by the second as the awful poison creeps through his veins. "I don't want to lose him." 

His voice cracks, and he doesn't think he's ever sounded so young or so weak. He expects James to laugh at him, and he prepares himself to fight back, but James doesn't say anything. He shuffles a bit closer to Albus, raises his wand, and starts tapping it against the less damaged bits of his skin. 

"How are you doing with the cure?" James asks finally. "You know, the potion ingredients?" 

Albus frowns. "How do you know about that?"

"Rose told me." He taps his wand against a sensitive, painful bit of Albus's shoulder, and Albus pulls away. 

"Would you be more careful?" He asks, holding his arm to his chest. 

"Sorry," James says, reaching out to Albus. "Come back here. I promise I'm trying not to hurt." 

Albus glares at him for a second then leans in closer, relaxing his arm just a little. "We're doing alright, we- Ow!" James chooses that moment to seize hold of his wrist. "Stop that! You're hurting me."

"You're fine," James says. "Stop complaining." He steadies Albus's arm and starts waving his wand in a circular motion over the wound, face screwed up with concentration. "Is it true you went into the Chamber of Secrets?" 

"Do you know everything?" 

"I am all-knowing..." He frowns. "Isn't there a word for that?" 

"Omniscient," Albus says.

James smiles. "You hang out with Scorpius too much." 

"I haven't hung out with him nearly enough," Albus says softly. 

James scrutinises him for a moment, then releases the grip on his wrist just a bit. "Can I help?" 

"What?" Albus sits back in his seat in amazement and stares down at his brother. 

"Can I help?" James repeats. "Is there anything I can do? What else do you need?" 

Albus frowns at him, perplexed. "Why are you being so nice? Why would you help?" 

James shrugs. "You're my little brother. And if Scorpius died you'd be really miserable. I hate seeing you miserable." 

"Do you?" Albus asks. "You've never seemed bothered in the past." 

James drops his hand and sits back on his heels again. He picks his tea mug up from the table and takes a sip, expression all twisted up, hazel eyes almost black in the low light. 

"Sorry," Albus says, looking down at his hands. 

"No," James says. "I probably deserved that." He sets the mug back on the table and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, seeming to carefully consider his words. "But I do care about you, Albus. And if I can help... if there's anything. Food, clothes, a bed for the night, something I can get you... I'm not going to tell Dad you're here, because it seems like you need to do this, and if this is what you want then I'm not going to stop you." 

Albus considers carefully. "You're sure you won't tell anyone?" 

"Can I tell Rose you were here?" He asks. "She's been worrying about you both. She'd like to know you're... well, I'm not sure safe is the right word for it. Alive? However temporarily." 

"Yes," Albus sighs. "Go on. But you have to let us get out of here first."

"So I can tell her after Quidditch practice tomorrow night?" 

Albus shrugs, then winces as his shoulder stings. It feels raw and uncomfortable now James has been prodding at it. "Or in the morning." 

"I'm not done with that," James says, gesturing to Albus's shoulder with his wand. He gets to his feet and strides across the kitchen to a cupboard by the sink. "You're not leaving tonight are you? You'll stay and sleep?" 

Albus shakes his head. "I don't think we have time."  

"What do you mean, you don't have time?" He rummages through the cupboard, clearing bottles and boxes out of the way. It looks like a complete mess of potions ingredients, no order at all, just chaos. "Aren't you going to have a good night's sleep? Scorpius looks like he could use a rest. And so do you." 

"I mean that if we stay here and rest, Scorpius might die in his sleep. This thing, this disease, is moving fast, James." Albus gets to his feet and walks across to his brother, who snatches something out of the cupboard and whirls around. 

"No. Sit down. I said I wasn't done yet!" He shakes a bottle in Albus's face. "Dittany. Come on." He tries to shoo Albus back to the table, but Albus holds his ground. 

"Wait. You have ingredients in there. I don't suppose you have the ingredients for a Love Potion?" 

"A Love Potion?" James grins and flips the bottle of Dittany over in his hand. "Scorpius already fancies you, Albus, and you already fancy him. I don't think you need to-" 

"It's one of the ingredients we need to cure him!" 

James eyes him. "This cure... is a bit weird." 

"I know," Albus groans, burying his face in his hands. "I know James. I really really know. But that doesn't mean I'm not doing it. It could..." he looks up and shakes his head. "It could require me to dance naked in a vat of Flobberworms at the full moon and I'd do it. For him." He points to the door to the front room. "For Scorpius." 

"Okay," James says slowly. "Maybe this cure isn't _that_ weird. Apparently it could be a lot worse." He taps Albus on the wrist and squeezes past him, beckoning him to follow. "I don't have the ingredients for a Love Potion, I'm sorry. And I know you know that even if I did it would take about a month to be ready."

Albus sighs and sinks into the seat at the kitchen table. "So where am I supposed to get some from?" 

"Uncle Ron?" James suggests, uncorking the Dittany. "This is going to sting, and if you wriggle it'll only make it worse, so keep still." 

"Why would Uncle Ron have Love Potions?" Albus asks, confused. "He and Hermione aren't-" 

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," James says, like he's explaining it to a very small child who can't quite keep up. "You know." He dips a bit of cotton wool into the Dittany and starts dabbing it on Albus's shoulder. "The joke shop?" 

Albus hisses at the sting of pain and tries to twist his arm away, but James's fingers clamp on.

"Didn't I tell you to sit still?" 

"It hurts!" Albus protests.

"I know, and you're a big boy who can handle it. Aren't you supposed to be an adult?" 

"Being an adult doesn't stop it hurting," Albus huffs. 

"Stop being a little pink Pygmy Puff," James says, dipping the cotton wool back in the Dittany. 

"That's offensive," Albus tells him. 

"My very existence offends you. I don't know why you're surprised." James takes a tighter hold of his arm and starts dabbing at it again. It really does hurt, a sharp, uncomfortable stinging like he's being attacked by a swarm of bees. But it doesn't hurt nearly as much as the original Splinching had, so he grits his teeth and puts up with it. 

"Seriously though, Albus. I can go in the morning and get you a bottle of Love Potion. How much do you need? I bet Uncle Ron would give it to us for free. Especially if I said you were having girl trouble." 

Albus gives him a look. "I'm gay, James." 

"It's a figure of speech," James says brightly. 

"Maybe you should tell him _you're_ the one having girl trouble. At least that would be believable." Albus ducks sideways as James swats at him. "Anyway, that won't work. I don't think it can wait until the morning. You haven't seen him, have you?" He swallows at the memory and looks down at his hands. "It's sort of spreading through his veins, and... and I'm worried what will happen if it gets much further. Whether he'll be able to function. Whether he'll just..." he trails off, and James stops putting Dittany on the wound and touches his arm gently. 

"Hey. We'll figure it out. If we can't wait until the morning we'll go to Uncle Ron now." 

Albus shakes his head. "He'll tell Dad." 

James thinks for a second. "So... we break in! We can pick locks. We'll steal the Love Potion." 

Albus looks at him very hard and tries to think of an argument against that, but he can't. "That's actually a good idea." 

"I have my moments of brilliance," James says proudly.

"When you say we..." Albus says. "You're not coming with us." 

"Aren't I? Someone needs to keep you two under control." 

"But you have to work tomorrow," Albus points out. "What if you get into trouble?"

"There isn't enough trouble in my life," James says, giving Albus's shoulder one final swab with the Dittany. "I miss getting up to mischief." He picks his wand up from the table and waves it round in a circle, conjuring up a clean white bandage that he ties round Albus's arm. "Is that better?" 

Albus wriggles his shoulder a bit. It doesn't hurt nearly so much now, and he's sure that beneath the bandage it looks a lot better than it did before. He doesn't think it's bleeding anymore either, which is good. He nods and glances at his brother. "Thanks."

"Is there anything we can do for Scorpius?" 

Albus tugs his t-shirt and jacket back on and ruffles his hair flat. "Do you have any Painkilling Potions? Those were helping him before, but... I sort of smashed all of ours when I Splinched myself." 

"I actually do!" James says, with such genuine enthusiasm that Albus is almost tempted to hug him. Almost. He gets up and walks back to the potions cupboard, pulls out a couple of bottles, and hands them to Albus. "This is all I have at the moment. Will that be enough?" 

Albus takes them from James as carefully as he can. "I think we'll take anything right now." He gets up and kicks his chair in under the table. "Do you think it'll be difficult? Breaking into the shop?" 

"I can't imagine it'll be safe or sensible... but you've definitely done more dangerous things. You fought Voldemort's daughter. After that, Uncle Ron and Uncle George will be easy." 

Albus snorts. "Do you think? I'd be more scared of them and their spells than any dark witch." 

James considers, then gives a little nod. "I suppose you have a point. _But_. At least we know we'll get out of that place alive." 

Albus gives him a grim smile. "You hope." 

 

Scorpius wakes to feel gentle fingers brushing through his hair. He feels warm for the first time in days, and as close to comfortable as he's going to get, and in his delirious, half-asleep state, he thinks about how his mum used to stroke his hair sometimes to wake him up when he fell asleep on the sofa in the library. He thinks about how his dad would do the same thing when he was in hospital, to comfort him and keep him calm when things were hurting most of all. 

He's hurting now, a terrifying aching that runs through his whole body. The sort of pain that people aren't meant to survive, that means everything has gone terribly wrong. Like knives slicing through him. All he can do is lie there and hope that keeping still will make it hurt less. 

"Scorpius. Are you awake?" 

Albus's voice, soft and concerned. There's that tightness in his tone that signifies anxiety, and in the past Scorpius has always associated it with Harry. These days he only ever hears Albus sound like that when he's fretting about the illness. 

Albus's fingers brush through his hair again, and of course they're Albus's. Scorpius realises now. No one else feels like that. No one else keeps on stroking for so long, beyond his hairline down round the side of his face, cupping his cheek, seeming to enjoy the angles and curves, lingering on and on like they don't want to let go.  

Scorpius exhales and opens his eyes. Speaking feels like too much right now. The pain is sickening, to the point where he's afraid he might scream or throw up if he opens his mouth, but he makes himself nod, and Albus bends down next to him and hugs him. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't let you sleep longer, but look. James has some of your Potions, and I want to tell you about the plan we've come up with." He pulls back and shows Scorpius the bottle he's holding, and Scorpius stares at it in wonder and amazement. 

"That's..." It comes out as a croak, and he swallows hard before trying again. "A Painkilling Potion."

Albus nods, beaming. 

And now Scorpius really wants to cry, because a small respite, a tiny piece of comfort, is right in front of him. 

"Can I..." He pushes himself upright on the sofa and reaches out his right hand for it, because his left feels strange and numb, and he'd rather try to pretend it doesn't exist so he doesn't have to worry about it. 

Albus uncorks the bottle and hands it across to him, still grinning. 

Scorpius doesn't hesitate. He lifts it to his lips, tilts his head back, and downs the whole bottle in several long gulps, making sure to catch even the tiniest dribbles left in the bottom. 

The effect isn't immediate, but it is pronounced. Slowly but surely, he feels warmth blossom in his chest. Or maybe it isn't warmth. This potion has never felt like warmth before, just a sort of satisfying, cold numbness. But compared to the icy sting running through his veins and sitting heavy in his chest, this feels so warm and so good. It feels like life. It feels like being able to breathe again. 

As it spreads through him, he sits very still, eyes closed, tears welling up and choking him because he never imagined this would happen. He never thought he'd manage to get the pain under control again, even for another minute or two, possibly ever. 

"Scorpius?" James's voice. He sounds so similar to how Albus does when he's worried. "Is it working?" 

Scorpius takes a very deep breath, marvelling at how much air his lungs can take when his chest isn't complaining at him. When he opens his eyes, the world is all blurry from tears, but he smiles up at Albus and James and nods. "Yes." 

Albus goes all shaky with relief at the word. He sags against James, and James wraps both arms round him and slaps him on the back, a broad grin on his face. 

"Glad I could help." He ruffles Albus's hair and releases him. "Do you know how long it'll last?" 

Scorpius takes another deep breath, just because he can, and shakes his head. "It varies. It never lasts as long as it used to." 

"Then we'll be quick," Albus says, all the relief already gone from his expression and replaced with pure determination. "We'll get in, steal the Potion, and then there are only a couple of more ingredients to get. The willow wood-" 

"We can break into the Manor and take my old wand shards for those," Scorpius says. 

Albus nods. "And the memory of love." 

"I'll figure something out." Scorpius swings his feet off the sofa and plants them on the ground, testing them out. "But Albus, this is good. I'm feeling..." Fantastic isn't nearly the right word.  He definitely _doesn't_ feel fantastic, with his left side still all weak, the distant presence of pain hovering behind the numbness of the potion, and the knowledge that even though he feels slightly better the disease is still spreading. But at least he feels like he can do things now, and he really _wants_ to do things. He wants to Apparate and cast spells, he wants to go and finish this cure, and he wants to do it all with Albus, holding his hand for support the whole way. 

"I'm feeling functional," he says, and as he does he can't stop a slow grin spreading across his face. "I feel like my body might be working. I mean, it's not great, but it's better." He beams at Albus and reaches out a hand to him as he stumbles to his feet. His legs, to his immense relief, take his weight, and he manages an excitable little wiggle as he clings to Albus's hand. 

Albus gives a quiet snort of laughter. "You have energy and _that's_ what you do with it." 

Scorpius gives him a wicked smile and shimmies up next to him. "There's nothing better to do with energy. Apart from-" He takes hold of Albus's face and plants a solid kiss right on his lips. 

Albus presses into the kiss, but grabs hold of his wrists and holds him tight, so he can pull back after a moment. "You're an idiot." 

"I'm your idiot," Scorpius says, buzzing with how sort of okay he feels. 

Albus swats at him, and James coughs awkwardly. 

"Okay, I'm going to go and let Rose know what we're planning. Don't do anything indecent on my sofa, for Merlin's sake." 

Albus whips round and glares at him. "We're not going to do anything indecent anywhere." 

"I mean, we might," Scorpius murmurs. 

"Don't encourage him," Albus says, turning back round and giving him a look. "And you're supposed to be saving your strength. Indecency will kill you. Behave." He shoots James another look. "Both of you." 

"Sometimes," James says, looking past Albus to Scorpius, "he sounds just like our mum." 

Scorpius grins and smooths a hand over Albus's good shoulder. "I think he's brilliant." 

"He's certainly something," James says. "Albus, will you fill him in on the plan? I'll be back once I've finished this letter, and then we should probably get going." He starts heading back to the kitchen, but stops in the doorway and looks back at them. "Don't spend the whole time making out. I don't want my house defiled." 

Albus flips him off, and he returns the gesture before ducking out of sight. 

"What _is_ the plan?" Scorpius asks, stroking Albus's hair flat where James had messed it up earlier. 

Albus loops his arms round Scorpius's waist. "I missed seeing you smile."

"That... doesn't sound like a plan."

Albus tuts. "I'm just saying. You look happy. I think you look less pale." He bows his head. "I'm sorry I smashed all the potions before." 

Scorpius strokes a finger over his cheek. "Albus. It wasn't your fault."

"It's made you worse," he says, looking down at his hands. "If I hadn't-" 

"If you weren't here we wouldn't have any of the ingredients," Scorpius says, sliding his finger under Albus's chin to lift it up. "I would have been caught by the Aurors. I know how scared you were. That was brave. You've always been brave. Braver than me at least. And I'm glad you're here." He gives Albus a gentle nudge. "We're halfway there now. And the last couple of ingredients will be easy. By this time tomorrow maybe you'll have made the Potion, I'll have drunk it, and everything will be over."

Albus looks at him. "Do you think?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "I can dream. Optimism is good. And I really do want to see my dad again..."

"Then we'll do this," Albus says, taking hold of his hands and squeezing them tight. "We'll do it quickly. We'll get you healed and then take you home to your dad." 

"I know," Scorpius says. "I have faith in us." 

 

Scorpius sits cross-legged on James's sofa, fiddling with the hem on the right leg of his trousers. He's trying to forget the trace of greyish green he's just spotted, creeping down towards his ankle. It's his own fault for kissing Albus earlier. He knew at the time that it was reckless, but he was so excited. Having said that, at least it doesn't hurt, even though it looks terrible. He doesn't have to feel the death creeping through his veins, even though he can see it. At least this way he can have a go at not thinking about it. 

"Is that a bruise?" 

Scorpius drops his trouser leg and looks up to see James leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, a curious expression on his face. The frown creasing his forehead is identical to the one Albus wears so often, so familiar that Scorpius almost smiles. 

"It's nothing," he says, tucking his hair out of his eyes. 

James pushes out of the doorway and walks over to him. "Are you sure? If there's something wrong you can tell me. I'm not Albus. I don't panic." 

"' _If_ there's something wrong'," Scorpius repeats, rubbing a hand down his left leg, which has started sending sharp twinges of pain running up into his hip, even despite the potion. 

"Poor choice of words?" James asks. He sighs and sits down on the floor across from Scorpius. "Sorry. I just meant... I suspect that what we're about to do won't be very safe. So if there's anything going on that we don't know about, that might cause a problem..." 

"Albus knows everything," Scorpius says, pressing the heel of his hand against a sore spot just above his knee. "There's no point keeping things from him, it just makes him irritable."

James smiles. "Only because he loves you. He's spent most of the last six and a half years worrying about you. Did you know that he spent the summer of second year panicking when you thought you'd failed your Charms exam? And I think he was ready to burst over Christmas in fourth year when you two were both grounded. He missed you. _And_ -" He holds up a hand to stop Scorpius even thinking about interrupting. "In that last Quidditch match last year? When the Bludger hit you and you fell off after you caught the Snitch? You should have seen him. He was beside himself." 

Scorpius grins. "Madam Pomfrey told me, when I woke up, that he'd been sitting outside the Hospital Wing and refusing to leave all weekend. She was really annoyed about it." 

"He's obsessed with you," James says. "Not in a creepy way. Just in an Albus way. You know how he gets about things."

Scorpius nods. "Dad calls it the Potter tenacity." 

James snorts. "I like that. But honestly Scorpius." His smile melts away until all that's left is something serious and earnest. "I've seen him heartbroken over you, I've seen him skipping with delight because of you, I've seen him incandescent with rage because of you. You mean the world to him. I know he's going to do everything he can to help you with this cure, and I will too, because I'm not sure I can imagine what he'd be like without you. I don't even remember what he was like before he met you. Probably all miserable and nerdy and quiet." 

He pauses for a second and thinks, then he leans forward, looking right at Scorpius. "You've changed him. In really good ways. And I want to make sure you can keep changing each other. Because as much as I hate to admit it, especially when my little brother's involved, you two are a pretty formidable team." 

"I know," Scorpius says, in a very soft voice. "Without him..." He shakes his head. "He makes me stronger." 

"Sometimes I get a bit jealous of how good you two are together," James admits. "I wish I had something like the two of you." 

Scorpius looks at him curiously. "You do?" 

James grins. "Very briefly. Before I remember that I'm perfect on my own. If I was any better reality might implode." 

Scorpius laughs. "Don't say that in front of Albus."

"Oh I won't," James says. "He'll just mock me." He gets to his feet. "Where is he by the way?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "He went to repack the bag. And he might be stealing some of your clothes. Ours are destroyed. He was saying since he's your height now he might be able to fit into them." 

James does a double-take. "No way is he the same height as me." 

"He's had a growth spurt," Scorpius says. "He's definitely a bit taller than he was." 

James shakes his head. "Nope. No way. The words Albus and growth spurt don't belong in the same sentence. It's impossible." 

Scorpius gets cautiously off the sofa, testing his legs before he puts any weight on them. It seems safe so he straightens up. "I promise you he's grown."

"I'm choosing to live in denial," James says, turning his back and walking away.

Scorpius takes a couple of awkward steps across the room, and is pleased to find that it isn't too uncomfortable. "Did you send your letter to Rose? What did you tell her?" 

James spins around. "That you're on death's door." 

Scorpius smiles. "I appreciate the optimism." 

"Well you do look like shit," James points out. "Even with the potion. You're a mess."

"Hopefully I'm not as much of a disaster as you seem to think, or..." He winces as he steps a bit too confidently on his left leg. "We're in serious trouble." 

James comes over and takes hold of his arm while he wobbles around, trying to regain his balance. "I also told her where we're going, and that you two have most of the ingredients now."

"Good." After a moment, Scorpius nudges James away. "I'm alright. Thank you. It's just sensitive. And a bit tiring. I'll live." 

"Glad to hear it." James steps back to give him room, but not far enough that he couldn't catch him if he fell. "Do you reckon we should go and find Albus before he steals all my clothes? It's getting late. There won't be anyone around Diagon Alley at this time, and we need to get on with this." 

Scorpius nods, and starts making his way gingerly to the door. "Let's go." 

 

Rose is awake when James's letter arrives. It's the middle of the night, but she's been studying hard. Studying is easier than sleeping these days. There's too much to worry about for sleep. 

The second she lies down in bed she finds herself thinking, her mind racing through possibilities too awful to contemplate. Albus and Scorpius being caught, Scorpius getting sicker and sicker in St Mungo's, his lifeless body pale and still in front of her. She's been having more and more nightmares about him dying, and she has too much to do to waste time on that sort of nonsense, so the best solution is to sit up by the dying fire and write essay after essay.

The embers floods the room with a dull red. The shadows creep and flicker in every corner. It's hard on the eyes, but a lamp would be even harder, so Rose just leaves a lit candle on the table next to her and curls in close to the parchment. 

She's writing about the theories of Human-Animal Transfiguration when she hears the tap on the window. It's raining so hard outside that for a moment she dismisses it as just more of the rain, lashing with ever more force against the glass. But then the tapping, scratching noise comes again and she looks up. 

She rubs her bleary eyes and peers across towards the window. There's a shape outside, lurking on the window ledge, and it takes her a second to realise that it's an owl. It's perched out in the rain-soaked night, being battered by the wind. She shoots out of her chair the second she realises what she's seeing, and rushes across to open the window. 

An icy gust swirls into the room, making the low flames in the fireplace gutter, and blowing her candle out completely. Several of her papers are blown onto the floor, and she has to step back as the bedraggled owl soars inside, brushing straight past her and almost clipping her with one of its wings, in its haste to get out of the inclement weather. 

It lands on the back of her vacated seat and hoots irritably.

"Well I didn't ask you to come," she says. "If you were sensible you would have roosted somewhere dry for the night and come tomorrow." 

The owl glares at her. 

"Be that way," she tells it. "Now you're here are you at least going to give me the letter? I assume it's for me, since there's no one else around. 

The owl seems to briefly consider not letting her have the letter, but after a moment's hesitation it sticks its leg out, and Rose rushes in to untie it. As she gets close to the owl she finally recognises it. James's Tawny Owl, Moony. It has the pattern of pale speckles across its head that James has always sworn is in the shape of the Canis Major constellation. 

"Did James send you out in that?" She asks Moony, nodding towards the window. He responds with an indignant hoot, and Rose tuts. "He's very rude. I'm sorry. When I write back I'll tell him to be more respectful." She smooths Moony's ruffled feathers and perches on the edge of her seat, unfurling the letter. 

Apparently Moony has decided not to be too angry at her, because he hops up onto her shoulder and gives a soft hoot. 

"Yes, I'm reading," she murmurs as she begins scanning the page. 

_Dear Rose,_

_You'll never guess who showed up at my house after Quidditch practice today... Albus and Scorpius!_

_They both look a mess. Albus has managed to Splinch himself somehow. His shoulder is completely mangled. I managed to sort it out a bit, but I'm not sure how much good I've done. I think it needs professional help, but of course he won't get it looked at until Scorpius is sorted out._

_Scorpius is really bad, Rose. I'm really worried. Albus is terrified, and I think rightly so. Even Scorpius is obviously scared, and you know how well he hides things. I'm really not sure how much longer he has left. He could barely stand when he arrived at mine, and he just curled up on the sofa and fell asleep. He's suffering a lot. Looking at him you can see him fading away before your eyes, and judging from that description of the disease you sent me, he really doesn't have long left. It'll be a miracle if we get him through the night, especially given what we're doing._

_We need to break into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Apparently they need a Love Potion, and they take too much time to make of course, and judging by the mess that Scorpius is in we can't wait until the morning to buy one. So instead we're stealing from our own family. It's ludicrous. Please send our apologies to your dad in advance. I'll pay him back when I can._

_It's going to be a pretty stressful night. I'm worried, Rose. I don't know what will happen to Albus if Scorpius doesn't get through the next few hours. I know he's tough, but does that mean anything where Scorpius is concerned?_

_I'm going to go with them and try to keep them both safe and alive. Wish me luck. I suspect I'm really going to need it. They're difficult to take care of at the best of times, and this is definitely not one of those._

_I'll keep you updated._

_Love, James_

Rose feels faintly sick as she reads the letter through for a second and a third time. James isn't sure whether Scorpius will make it through the night? 

That's bad. That's really bad. That's... all her nightmares coming true at once. 

She'd stayed up to avoid having these dreams, but this isn't a dream anymore. James's words aren't a nightmare. They're reality. He's seen Albus and Scorpius today and he says that- 

_'Albus is terrified, and I think rightly so... He could barely stand when he arrived at mine... It'll be a miracle if we get him through the night.'_

She shakes her head and crumples the letter up in her hand so she can't read it anymore, then she buries her face in her hands and tries to comprehend what it means. 

James must have sent this hours ago. Owls are quick but they can't Apparate. Moony didn't just appear here. It's taken him time to fly up, especially if the weather has been so horrible the whole way. And the thing about time is that it lets things happen. 

Are Albus and Scorpius at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes now? Are they safe? Are they alive? In the past few hours Scorpius could have deteriorated. He could by dying. He could be dead. 

Rose shudders all over at the thought. She hugs her arms round herself and bows her head. This is awful. This is the worst Owls she's ever received. 

She's never known anyone who's died before. There's no one in her family who they've lost, not since she was born at least. Hugo's pet rat died last year, but she was a rat, and she was Hugo's, so Rose barely noticed it had happened. 

There was that boy, Craig Bowker, the one who Delphi killed. Maybe he was the closest Rose has got to losing someone. But he was in Slytherin, and they barely even had any lessons together. She saw him once or twice a week in Potions class, but he was quiet and well behaved, and she never knew much about him. It was awful when he died, because it hurt some of her friends – Yann and Polly – and because it hurt Albus. But that was other people's grief. Other people's pain. And Rose has never known how it feels to have your heart broken by the loss of someone dear. 

But now she's sitting here thinking about Scorpius. Scorpius who is so bright and enthusiastic and awkward and nerdy. Scorpius who is constantly smiling. Scorpius who sits on the banisters and swings his feet back and forth while they're doing Prefect duty in the entrance hall. Scorpius who was so bored while he was in hospital, and would beg her to bring him books about difficult Transfiguration theory from the Library, just so he had something to do. Scorpius who loves Albus with every fibre of his being. Scorpius who is her best friend. Scorpius who is-

Scorpius who was? 

There's no guarantee he's still alive. Maybe she should be thinking about Scorpius Malfoy in the past tense? 

But no. That's impossible. Scorpius can't just stop living. Some disease can't make Scorpius not exist anymore. Scorpius is too strong to die, he's too much of a presence, too full of life, brimming over with energy and ideas and-

Sometimes when they were doing Prefect duty together in the library at night – collecting up books and rubbish, and helping Madam Pince put the place back in order – they would talk. Scorpius would tell Rose about his mum, about how she'd been when she was alive. And Rose had always thought how remarkably similar they must have been, Scorpius and Astoria Malfoy; how Scorpius was growing up to be just like her. 

Astoria Malfoy died. Brave, bold, loving Astoria Malfoy, who embraced life at every turn. If she died then is it so impossible that Scorpius would die too? 

She rakes her hands through her hair and looks up at James's owl. 

"Moony..." she says, and her voice breaks. "I think my friend is going to die." Her words catch in her throat, and she feels a tear spill down her cheek. She sniffs and brushes it away. "What do I do?" 

Moony gives a soft hoot and starts preening himself. 

"Fine," she mutters. "I'll figure it out myself. I'm smart and I'm brave. I can do this." 

She gets to her feet and paces round the table, brushing away the tears that keep falling. She can't stop thinking about eleven-year-old Scorpius grinning and offering her sweets, fourteen-year-old Scorpius rambling about bread, fifteen-year-old Scorpius stuttering out a request for her to go on a date with him, seventeen-year-old Scorpius hugging her and calling her his friend. It hurts. It aches. And if it feels like this for her then she can't imagine how Albus is feeling; how Draco is feeling.

Draco. 

A thought strikes. 

There are all those letters upstairs. Hidden under the pillow in Rose's dorm. The letters Scorpius left for Draco. If something terrible is going on with Scorpius, isn't it Rose's job to share those letters with Draco? That was the whole point of him sending them to her. 

If she was dying, wouldn't she want her mum and dad to know she loved them before she died? It must be the same for Scorpius. And time is running out by the sound of it. 

Maybe this is the moment to share Scorpius's letters with Draco. 

She stops behind one of the chairs and braces her hands on the back of it, staring at the glowing embers of the fire. Just one or two crackling flames are left, and all the logs and coals have crumbled away into ash. It'll die out completely, and the room will be left cold and dark. This has to be the moment to act. It has to be. Before it's too late. 

Rose turns to Moony, who's still perched on the back of her chair, preening himself.

"Wait here. I have a job for you." 

Moony lifts his head and gives an indignant hoot. 

"I know I know. But it's important."

Moony flutters his wings and glares. 

"It's _very_ important. Life or death. And I trust you with that." 

Moony seems to consider, then he fluffs himself up, feathers ruffled to make himself look big and important. 

Rose gives him a grim smile. "I knew I could count on you." She gathers her books and sprints up to her dorm to fetch Scorpius's letters.


	15. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus, Scorpius, and James make a daring attempt to break in to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where they encounter puns, Pygmy Puffs, and potions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Anna and Archie. 
> 
> Thanks as always to everyone who reads and comments on this fic. I can't believe we're nearly at the end! I'd better hurry up with writing the next thing...

The moon sends silver light and long shadows cascading down Diagon Alley. It's eerily quiet; deserted. The rain-soaked cobbles are devoid of their usual crowds of people, and the shop windows are all dark. A chill wind sweeps down the street, and Scorpius hugs his jacket tighter to his body as he shrinks back against the wall of Gringotts. 

James and Albus are both standing out on the edge of the shadows, peering in opposite directions down the street. James keeps whispering to Albus, but Albus doesn't say a word. Scorpius can tell that he's switched on and alert, ready for anything. 

"Do you think we're safe?" Scorpius hisses. "It's freezing out here. Please can we go inside?”

Both Albus and James immediately shush him, waving their hands to keep him quiet. Albus glances at his brother and draws his wand. His expression is very serious, and as he gazes out into the gloom, Scorpius can't help but think how much he looks like his dad. There's a confidence and assurance to how he's standing. He looks like he knows what he's doing and he looks like he means business. Scorpius can imagine a younger Harry having looked that way too. 

"There might be Aurors around," James whispers, creeping across to Scorpius. "They've increased security around here. And that was _before_ you two disappeared." 

Scorpius frowns. "How do you know they've increased security?" 

James shrugs. "Dad. Sometimes he likes to complain about his work over-" 

"Shut up!" Albus breathes, rushing back into the shadows and pushing both James and Scorpius against the bank wall. "Someone's coming." He flattens himself against Scorpius's body and ducks his head down, apparently trying to make himself invisible. Scorpius pulls his hood up for him, and wraps an arm round him to hold him close. 

They stand there in the shadows, and Scorpius can feel that Albus is holding his breath, although his heart is beating rapidly. James has frozen stock-still, all tight and tense. Scorpius tries to do the same, but his legs are cramping up from the cold and from standing for so long, and he can't stay still. He wriggles his knees back and forth, and Albus tightens his grip on the back of his jacket, like he's trying to offer what support he can from the uncomfortable position he's in. 

Footsteps splash through a puddle on the street beside the bank, and Scorpius hears a pair of voices talking, although he can't hear much of what they're saying since they're speaking so quietly. A beam of wandlight pierces the shadows where they're hiding, and Albus crushes himself as close to Scorpius as he can get. The beam just slides past them, and the two people, in long, flowing robes go strolling on past. Albus turns his head to watch them as they go by, and once they're out of earshot he looks at James.

"Aurors," he breathes. 

"I know," James whispers back. "Wasn't that Perkins?" 

Albus nods. "We should be safe for a bit once they're gone." He takes a step back to give Scorpius some space. "Are you okay?" 

Scorpius wriggles his legs around and nods. "Cold and stiff. I want to get moving."

"Let's just give them a second," Albus murmurs, glancing over his shoulder again at the disappearing backs of the Aurors. "Then we can go." 

Scorpius counts to ten very slowly in the time they spend staring down the road. At last, the Aurors disappear round a slight bend in the road outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, their long robes swishing off into the darkness. Only then does Albus relax and take a step back. He puts his wand away and looks at the other two. 

"Safe. For now. But there'll probably be another patrol in a few hours." 

"By which time we'll have the Love Potion and be out of here," Scorpius says brightly. 

Albus and James share a look, and Scorpius's smile fades. He'd known he was being overly optimistic, but for not one of the other two to look even a little bit positive is alarming. 

"I think we stay calm, move slowly, and stick together the whole time," James says. "I don't trust anything in that shop." 

"No," Albus agrees. 

Scorpius gives Albus a nudge as they start walking away from the bank and down the street to the shop. "You're more nervous about this than you were about breaking into the Ministry of Magic."

"That's because this will be harder," Albus says firmly.

Scorpius takes hold of his hand. "You look older when you're being serious." 

Albus glances at him. "Is that a compliment?"

Scorpius smiles. "Yes. I like it. You look grown up. Not that you don't always look grown up."

Albus relaxes just a little, and returns the smile. He frees his hand from Scorpius's and reaches up to trail his fingers through Scorpius's hair, twirling one of the long, fine, curling strands round his forefinger. "You should keep it like this, when we get out of this mess. Maybe a little bit shorter, but it suits you." 

Scorpius pulls a face. "Doesn't it make me look like my dad?" 

Albus grins. "You've always looked like your dad." 

Scorpius groans. "Says you." 

Albus gives him a gentle nudge, then reaches round and gathers his hair up behind his head. "It's not quite that long yet. You have a bit to go before you can make it into a ponytail." 

Scorpius sighs with relief. "Thank Dumbledore for that." 

Albus laughs and hugs him. 

Up ahead, James has noticed what they're up to and is now walking backwards, hands on hips, glaring at them. "Oi, this is a serious situation. Do you mind not flirting for a second?" 

Scorpius links arms with Albus. "We are enjoying each other's company." 

"Well don't," James advises. "We need to concentrate." He spins around and keeps walking, and Albus pulls a face at his back. Scorpius snorts and squeezes his arm. 

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes looms out of the darkness as they make their way up the street. It looks weird at night, all the colours dampened by the shadows, the shapes in the windows sinister, laughing faces on posters and packaging leering at them. Scorpius feels Albus shiver next to him, and he reaches across and zips his jacket right up under his chin for him. 

"I'm not cold," Albus murmurs. "It's just..." 

"Creepy?" Scorpius suggests, looking at a faceless mannequin that must be modelling some of the Invisibility products, because it appears to float in mid-air, looking down at them, sightless but seemingly intent, ready for them to make a wrong move.

"Very creepy," Albus agrees. 

"I know you have to get in round the back," James says, coming over to them. "There's a sort of supply yard round there. That's how we got in when I worked here that summer after sixth year. If you try to get in through the front it sets all the security off. Whatever that means."

"I think we should all agree not to find out what it means," Scorpius says, still eyeing the mannequin, his voice going a little bit high-pitched.

Albus gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and glances at James. "I can't believe you managed to work here for an entire summer and you don't know what's going to happen to us when we're in there." 

James grimaces. "They change the security all the time."

Albus shakes his head. "Useless," he mutters, then he turns and leads the way round the side of the building, to a dingy little alley. He draws his wand and lights it, holding it high so they can see the whole way to the back of the building. Only when he's certain there's no one and nothing there does he go through, keeping a tight grip on Scorpius's hand. 

The yard round the back is flooded with moonlight, the cobbles gleaming a slick silver, broken only by the wooden trapdoor that leads down into the store rooms. 

"Do you think the stores would be easier to steal from than the shop itself?" James muses. 

"I doubt it," Albus says, now shining his wand on the back door. "We haven't been down there in years. I wouldn't know where to start looking." 

"Good point," James says, also drawing his wand and directing it at the door. "Alohomora," he says. Nothing happens. 

"It won't unlock?" Scorpius asks, drawing his wand too. He waves it in a complicated little squiggle and tries the fancy unlocking spell that he knows works on his dad's office door. Still nothing happens. 

Albus steps close to the door and bends down, running his hands over it. "There's no lock..."

"Really?" James shoves him out of the way and moves up to the door instead. "I was counting on us having to pick it."

Albus shakes his head. 

James pulls something from his pocket, some sort of knife, and runs it down the crack between door and doorframe. There's a dull click, but the door doesn't open, and he pulls the knife back looking disappointed. "They've thought of everything." 

"Well it must open somehow," Albus says, kneeling down on the step and running his fingers along the base of the door. "I refuse to be defeated by a door, James." 

"We could blast it down," James suggests, waving his wand randomly through the air like he's not sure what to do with it.

"And wake up the whole street?" Albus tuts. "There has to be a neater solution to it than that." He looks up at Scorpius. "You're the most intelligent of all of us. What do you think?" 

Scorpius considers the door carefully for a moment, thinking. It can't be unlocked with magic, there's no lock to pick, they can't break it down... how else do you get through doors? It's unlikely to just open if he tries twisting the handle. But what other options are there? He frowns and walks up the steps. Albus scrambles out of the way, and holds his wand up so Scorpius can see what he's doing. 

Feeling a little bit stupid, Scorpius curls his body over the door handle so neither of the others can see what he's doing. He twists it, and it turns an inch or so, but then it sticks. He sighs. It was worth a try. 

He takes a step back and surveys the door, then he starts rapping his knuckles lightly across the wood. And as he does, he hits one particular spot three times in a row, and a glowing light starts scrawling words across the plain wood. 

_Oi, tell us a joke, mate._

Scorpius leaps back, and Albus scrabbles up off the floor, staring. 

"What did you do?" James asks. 

"I knocked!" Scorpius says. "I just! And now it's-“ He flails at the door. 

"Is this meant to happen?" Albus asks. "This isn't very... formal. Aren't magic doors meant to be all, you know..." 

"Proper?" Scorpius suggests, in a very posh voice. 

Albus nods. 

"I think that's just the Hogwarts portraits," James says, reading the words again and again. "Other people enchant things in all sorts of ways. Our reserve Seeker, Anna, her ex-boyfriend had a door to his bathroom that used to say 'show us your-'"

"Alright!" Albus says. "I think we get the point. Thanks, James." He scrutinises the door. "So what do we do? Is it a riddle, or?" 

"I think we literally have to tell it a joke," Scorpius says quietly. 

"Go on then, James." Albus turns and looks expectantly at his brother. 

"Why me?" James asks, indignant. "Why can't you do it?"

"You're supposed to be the funny one," Albus says. "Go on." He gives James a little shove towards the door, but James spins around and grabs onto him, trying to pull him forwards instead. 

"You go. I don't know any jokes!" 

"You tell jokes all the time!" Albus says, now wrestling with him over who goes first.

Scorpius looks back and forth between them, and decides to take matters into his own hands. The problem is, he doesn't know what he wants to say. He's spent so long coming up with the perfect puns for just this sort of situation, but at the crucial moment, as he steps up to the door, they've all deserted him. He stares at the glowing words, panics as his brain goes blank, and blurts out the first thing that comes into his brain. 

"You're my favourite Dumble-door." 

The second the words leave his mouth he regrets ever saying them. He steps away from the door and buries his face in his hands. His cheeks have gone all hot, and there's a resounding silence as Albus and James stop fighting and both stare at him. 

"What was that?" James says finally. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "Nothing," he squeaks. 

James laughs. "Did you just say... You're my favourite Dumble-door?" 

Scorpius shakes his head again. "Definitely not." He draws himself up as tall as he can. "I think you misheard." 

"I don't think I did," James says, grinning. 

Next to him, Albus is struggling not to smile. Scorpius can tell because his cheeks are twitching. He steps across to Scorpius and gives him a gentle nudge, murmuring: "It's better than 'consider me engorgimpressed'." He smirks at Scorpius, and Scorpius elbows him. 

"You do a better job then. Comedy genius." 

"It wouldn't be hard," Albus teases. 

Scorpius sticks his tongue out at him. "We should at least test the door to see if it worked, anyway."

James gives a derisive snort, and Scorpius glares at him. 

"Sorry sorry!" James says, holding his hands up. "Go on. It's worth checking." 

Scorpius gives him a very long look, then steps up to the door and tries the handle. It doesn't budge. With a sigh he steps back and looks at Albus. "Your go." 

Albus groans. "I'm not funny, Scorpius. I can't do this." 

"Yes you can. You won't embarrass yourself nearly as much as I just did." He steps up and gives Albus a gentle shove up to the door. "Dazzle us with your humour." 

Albus sighs and shakes his head, then he shrugs resignedly. "Fine. Knock knock." 

He stands there and waits, and Scorpius wonders whether he should answer just so they can tell the joke properly. Can doors respond to human interaction? But just as he's taking a breath to reply to Albus, a gentle voice whispers out to them, ethereal and enigmatic. 

"Who's there?" It asks. 

Albus swallows. "You know," he says.

"You know who?" The door asks, and Albus does an awkward little smile and wiggle of his hands that Scorpius feels very proud of. The door doesn't make any further response. 

"Well that went as well as I expected it to," Albus says, turning his back on the door. "Go on James. It's up to you." 

James pats him on the shoulder. "That was awful. I'm ashamed to call you my brother." 

"Now you know how I feel about you all the time," Albus says, and James grins and ruffles his hair. Albus ducks and escapes back to Scorpius's side. Scorpius wraps an arm round him and leans in close. 

"You almost did jazz hands," he murmurs. "I love it." 

"I've spent too much time with you," Albus replies. 

Scorpius squeezes him tight. "I'm having an excellent influence, I can tell." 

Albus smiles and leans against his side as they both turn to watch James. 

He's spending an awfully long time in front of the door, apparently psyching himself up. Scorpius can't help but wonder if he's going through his pre-match routine from Quidditch. There's a lot of wriggling around, loosening up his knees, stretching his arms and his neck. When he cracks his knuckles, Albus twitches. 

"James, please. We don't have all night." 

"Sorry," James says, although he doesn't act very sorry. He holds his arms out to either side and tilts his head back, like he's imagining himself in a spotlight. Albus rolls his eyes. 

James clears his throat with as much drama as he seems to be able to muster, then he wriggles his shoulders and looks at the door. 

"Where," he says, in a grand voice. "Did Dumbledore keep his army?” A beat of silence, then: "Up his sleevy." He turns his back on the door, faces Albus and Scorpius, and drops into a deep bow. Albus stares at him, expression appalled and disgusted. 

" _That_ is your contribution?" 

James ignores him and turns round to bow to the door.

"Shall we just give up now?" Albus mutters. "If this is the best we've got? That was pitiful. If I were that door I'd lock us out and never let us-" 

He's cut off as the door gives a sort of contented sigh, a whispered exhale, and the lock clicks open. For several very long seconds, all three of them stare into the shop, then Albus shakes his head. 

"No," he says. "That did not just happen." 

James has never looked happier. He's beaming, and he spreads his arms wide and takes another bow. "You're both very welcome. Feel free to grovel if you like, prostrate yourselves before my supreme comedic presence. I'll also accept flowers, gifts, money..." 

"This door has no taste," Albus says, glaring at it. "I'm going to have words with Uncle Ron." 

Scorpius grins. "It's a good job it has no taste or we'd still be stuck outside." 

"Ugh." 

They brush past James, who follows them, still crowing about his achievement. When they get inside, the door creaks slowly closed behind them. As it clicks into place and they look around the black, shadowy room, they all fall very quiet.

"Now what?" Albus whispers.

"We go to the Love Potions," Scorpius whispers back. 

"Somehow," James murmurs. 

There's a little bit of pale moonlight filtering into the room through a single window next to the door. Scorpius blinks several times, and slowly his eyes adjust to the gloom, and he takes in the room in front of him. He's only been to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes a couple of times before, with Albus, when they'd visited Diagon Alley together over the last few summers. Before that he'd never been. His dad had been too keen to avoid anything with the name Weasley attached to bring him to the joke shop, so Scorpius doesn't know his surroundings very well, but he recognises enough to figure out that this is the back room where all the Defence Against the Dark Arts merchandise is kept. 

Rows of shelves crammed with Invisibility Gloves, Shield Hats, Decoy Detonators, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and a hundred other products that Scorpius doesn't recognise stretch off into the dusty darkness. On the shelf nearest to him, he can see packets of Candles of Glory – ' _No Hand of Glory? Never fear. This single-use, no fuss candle will give light only to you for up to an hour_ '. Beyond them are bulky boxes labelled Retractable Trap – ' _Imbued with an Ensnaring Charm, this handy bit of kit will catch any criminal unawares_ '. Immediately, Scorpius draws his wand and silently checks the area for any Ensnaring Charms, just in case.

"Shall we just go down the middle aisle?" Albus asks, drawing his wand. 

James nods. "Do we want some light?" 

Albus considers. "Yes, but I don't know if it's a good idea."  

James shrugs and leaves his wand in his pocket. Together, Albus an inch or two in front, they make their way down the aisle. Scorpius can see Albus's brain working, can see him scanning the shelves and making little twitches and sweeps with his wand as he tries to sense anything dangerous. It's silent, delicate work, and Scorpius recognises the skill behind it. Maybe they covered these sorts of spells in DADA classes while he was away, but he doubts it. Albus has probably studied them in his spare time, and he seems to be very good at them. At least, Scorpius hopes he is. 

About halfway down the aisle, Albus hesitates, and Scorpius does the same. James keeps walking, at least, he does until Albus shoots an arm out and grabs hold of him. 

"Stop," he hisses. 

James freezes, hands in the air. "Why are we stopping?" 

"The air feels strange," Albus says. 

James inhales. "It doesn't smell strange." 

Scorpius frowns. "Does magic have a smell?" 

"I don't know," James says thoughtfully. "Maybe it should. That might be useful." 

Albus tuts. "I don't care how the air smells. I can feel something." He turns to Scorpius. "There's a spell for exposing invisible enchantments. Do you remember what it is?"

Scorpius thinks hard. He remembers when they'd found the spell. They'd been sitting in the library one night, revising for their sixth year exams, and Albus had found it in a book. Then they'd got distracted for almost an hour, setting up invisible charms and spells for one another and trying to expose them. Scorpius had picked the spell up quicker, but Albus, like with most Defence related things, had ended up better after some practice. 

Scorpius focuses on one particular memory of Albus managing to expose a particularly complex bit of charmwork, and then neatly disabling it with a spell Scorpius hadn't even thought of. It had been so impressive that Scorpius had swooned just a little bit. Albus's spellwork has always been attractive, but the more confident he's grown over the years, the more Scorpius has grown to love it.

He can see an image of Albus reading the spell out of the book, and another of him mouthing it over and over to practice. That's enough to jog Scorpius's memory, and he nods. 

"Yes. I can do that." He draws his wand, gives it a flourish in the air, and thinks the spell as clearly as he can, throwing in a memory of himself performing it flawlessly, just for good measure. Instantly a coiling thread of glowing magic appears. It snakes its way across the aisle in front of them, just off the ground. A perfect trip wire. 

Albus gives a grim smile of satisfaction. "We know my detection spells do work then." He steps carefully over the thread, and nothing happens. "I think we'll be fine if we take care." 

Scorpius and James both hop over the spell, and they move forward with even more caution than before. Scorpius keeps his wand out, casting a couple of his own detection spells, but he still lets Albus take the lead.

Further into the shop, away from the window, it's almost pitch black, and even though his eyes are beginning to adjust, Scorpius can't see much beyond the indistinct shapes of shelves and boxes, and Albus and James's determined faces on either side of him. There's a bit of light falling through from the front room, carved up by the strips of curtain marking the segregation between front and back, but at least it shows where the doorway is, and that there isn't really that much further to go. 

"There's so much useful stuff back here," James whispers when they're towards the end of the aisle. "I always forget. I mean look at this." He steps over to one of the shelves and starts examining the things on it. "Deluxe Extendable Ears, impervious to Imperturbable Charms. A Little Bird, drop him anywhere and remotely hear conversations in a twenty foot radius, designed to mimic a real little bird for minimum suspicion..." 

"James," Albus snaps. "If you could stop shopping for a second and concentrate, that would be really helpful."

"I am concentrating," James says, still peering at the shelves. "Oh wow." He reaches out for a little packet of something. "This is really cool." 

"James, no!" 

"Look at... this..." He picks the packet up off the shelf and trails off as a rushing like wind fills their ears, low but building up and up to a roar. Scorpius presses his hands over his ears and ducks his head. The sound is so loud it hurts, and he wants it to stop, and no sooner has he thought that than it does stop. 

The relief of silence is almost as crushing as the noise had been. A sudden absence of anything. A confusing disorientation. And then he feels something hard hit him and he tumbles to the ground. He sees James fall too, and not a second too soon, because at that moment a streak of purple light comes from nowhere and hits the shelf, send sparks flying everywhere.

"You idiot, James!" Albus yells. 

"Why is this happening?" James shouts back. 

"Because you picked something up before we'd disabled all the security." Albus, who apparently managed to tackle both Scorpius and James to the ground, scrambles to his feet, wand held up. There's a telltale shimmer in the air around him that tells Scorpius he's shielding himself, and he keeps looking around for the source of the spell that's just missed them. 

"I was going to put it back," James says, picking himself up and dusting himself off. He puts the packet back on the shelf. "Do you think the shop will stop attacking us now?" 

No sooner have the words left his mouth than there's a whooshing noise and everything goes pitch black. It's like someone has just removed Scorpius's eyes. He can't see a thing, not even his hand when he waves it right in front of his face. He gropes in the darkness and finds someone's arm. 

"Albus?" He asks. 

Albus grabs hold of him. "Yes. James?" 

There's a fumbling noise, and then Scorpius feels someone patting his chest. 

"I'm here," James says. 

Scorpius catches hold of his hand and puts it on Albus's shoulder. "Albus is here." 

"Great. Is this Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?" 

"It must be," Albus says. "I can't see a thing." 

Scorpius clings to Albus's arm and reaches out with his free hand, feeling for the shelves. "We need to get to the door. If it's the Powder we can move away. We can-" 

A loud siren blares out from behind him. He spins toward it, letting go of Albus's hand. 

"What in Merlin's-" 

"Decoy Detonators!!" James calls out of the darkness. 

"Why are they so loud?" Scorpius asks. 

"Because they're supposed to be a distraction?" James pats at Scorpius's arm. "Where's the door? We need to-" 

There are several tell-tale whistles as spells streak out of nowhere and Scorpius ducks. Beside him he feels Albus and James do the same, and he reaches out, fumbling, and takes the opportunity to grab the back of Albus's jacket. 

The spells all hit nearby shelves and send debris raining down on them. Albus curls up in an attempt to protect himself, and Scorpius has to tighten his grip to keep hold of him. 

"We have to get the potion," he says, breathless and desperate, and Scorpius feels him straighten up. "Come on."

Scorpius struggles up off the floor. His legs are starting to feel weak again, and he's not sure if it's that the potion's wearing off, or if it's from the effort of having to keep pushing himself up from the ground. He grabs hold of Albus and hauls himself to his feet, and Albus puts an arm round him to steady him. 

"This way," Albus says, giving Scorpius a gentle nudge forwards. "I think the door is over here." 

Scorpius starts feeling his way into the darkness, groping at the shelves, staying low to the ground. It's terrifying, the feeling that he could be walking into anything. He feels completely defenceless, although Albus's warm presence beside him is reassuring. 

More spells streak over their heads, and Scorpius throws himself forward onto the ground. As he hits the floor, he realises he can see again, and that he's right by the door to the front room. He crawls forward, away from the darkness, and uses the doorframe to pull himself to his feet. 

"The potions are right on the other side of the room," James says. "Over by the front door." He picks himself up off the floor and looks at Scorpius, then grins. "It's nice to be able to see again. Shall I make a run for it?" 

"I'm not sure that would be advisable," Scorpius says, as Albus joins them in the doorway. "In fact, I think it might be very inadvisable..." 

There's a suspicious lack of activity in the shop now. No more spells shoot past them. The cloud of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder looms in the air behind them, and everything is eerily still. Scorpius gets the sense that the shop is waiting for them to break cover. Biding its time until the second one of them sets foot in the front room. 

"Isn't it worth a try?" James asks. "I'm fast. I can run." 

Albus hesitates. "Can you outrun a spell?" 

James shrugs. "I can duck down. There's loads of stuff to hide behind." 

Albus looks at Scorpius. "I don't know," he says. 

"You're too indecisive," James tells him, and with no further warning, he sprints into the front room. 

He doesn't get very far. About two steps across the room, another bolt of light comes flying seemingly from nowhere and hits him straight in the back. Albus yells, but James doesn't fall to the ground. He's not stunned or petrified. He's expanding, blowing up like a balloon, just the way Cedric had done in the lake. His feet leave the ground and he starts to float up towards the ceiling as Albus and Scorpius stare in horror. 

"Albus!" James calls, wiggling his legs and arms around. "This isn't great!" 

"What do we do?" Albus asks. He sounds shaken and uncertain, and he drags his hands through his hair and looks at Scorpius. "How do we get him down? Is there a spell, or-" 

Before he manages to finish his sentence, pure chaos descends. There's a sudden burst of multi-coloured lights, that flood the room and shine out into the street beyond. The lights flash and dance in a kaleidoscope that's almost painful to look at. 

At the same time, gold confetti explodes from the ceiling, tumbling in a cloud over everything. And a voice rings out, definitely one of the Weasleys' although Scorpius can't tell which one, unrelentingly loud. 

"INTRUDER!" It says. "INTRUDER!" 

And there's no doubt that the whole of Diagon Alley can hear it just as loudly as they can inside the shop. 

Albus swears. "James, when you get down from there I'm going to kill you!" He looks at Scorpius. "We need that Love Potion. Shield me? And try to fix James. I'll get it." 

"Try to fix James?" Scorpius looks up to see him sort of swimming through the air, limbs flailing, shouting something that can't be heard over the blaring voice. "How?" 

"There must be reducing charms or something..." Albus suddenly goes very pale. "Or maybe we won't be able to get him down at all. My dad told me about... about how he blew up his aunt once and she had to be punctured." 

Scorpius shakes his head and pats Albus on the arm. "No puncturing. I'll figure it out. I promise." 

Albus gives him a shaky little smile. "Okay. Good luck." 

Scorpius leans across and kisses him. "You too. Don't get blown up." 

Albus makes a strangled little panicky noise, and goes darting out across the shop floor. 

If Scorpius thought things couldn't get any worse, he was wrong. As Albus ducks his head and sprints across the room, all the items on every shelf he runs past spring to life and go after him. Every product in the shop is putting up a full-scale resistance against the intruders within seconds of Albus setting off. 

Several boxes of Weasley's Wildfire Whizzbangs ignite, and soon the air is full of whirling Catherine wheels, fizzing rockets, and sparklers that dance around Albus's head, writing very rude words. A number of Decoy Detonators stream past Scorpius's feet from the back room, and then follow Albus across the room, honking and bouncing up and down. Various samples of Wonder Witch makeup and perfume has zoomed away from their stand and are now assaulting both James and Albus, spraying them with clouds of perfume, slapping their faces with blusher and lipstick and eyeshadow, even as they try to beat them away. And the door of the Pygmy Puffs' cage has sprung open, and most of them have made a bid for freedom. They now flock at Albus's heels, purring and squeaking, and getting in his way. He can't run freely with them there, so he slows right to a walk.

"Get out of the way," he groans, as a little purple Pygmy Puff rolls right where he was about to put his foot, and he has to hop for a moment to avoid treading on it. He leans down and picks it up, and it crawls up his arm and snuggles against his shoulder. "No! I didn't mean for you-" It nestles down and he makes an exasperated gesture before ploughing on across the room, Pygmy Puff now curled up against his neck. 

Scorpius melts a little bit inside at the sight, and leans against the doorframe to watch Albus and his new Pygmy Puff friends, briefly forgetting all about the noise and the panic and James's predicament. Among the chaos, the sight of that little Pygmy Puff taking refuge on Albus's shoulder is too sweet for words. Scorpius wonders if they might be able to adopt it... 

He's still lost in his reverie when James floats by him, yelling. 

"Scorpius! Stop gazing lovingly at my brother and HELP ME. For Merlin's sake." 

Scorpius drags his gaze away from Albus and looks up to see that James is being flanked by several fireworks and a cloud of makeup and perfume. He now has bright purple lips, and vivid green eye shadow, and a Chameleon Comb is in the process of turning his hair electric blue. He doesn't look pleased. 

Scorpius draws his wand with a flourish. He still isn't sure what spell to try. Would Reducio work? It's the opposite of Engorgio, but who knows how it affects people. He doesn't want James to shrivel up or something. He doesn't want to go too far. But, he reminds himself, he wants to be a Healer. He's read so many books; he knows the theory of casting this sort of spell on a person. However, theory is not practicality, and the reality of messing this sort of thing up would be awful. 

He takes a deep breath. "Okay!" He calls up to James, voice high-pitched and terrified. "I'm going to try something. Can you just stay still for a second?" 

"Oh sure," James says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'll just stop myself floating around. That's easy." He bats at the Chameleon Comb, and tries to swat away a powder puff. "If you could hurry up that would be fantastic." 

Scorpius nods and tries to gather himself. He glances over at Albus, who is now engaged in a battle with several fireworks that are zooming in circles around his head, apparently trying to stop him from moving forward. There's always something comforting about having Albus nearby. It makes him feel braver.

He takes a deep breath and looks up at James. He raises his wand, points it, and says: "Reducio," with all the authority he can muster. 

The effect is immediate. The spell hits James in the chest, and he rapidly begins to deflate, sinking lower and lower in the air, until his feet hit the ground. When he looks roughly normal size, Scorpius pulls his wand back, and James falls to his knees, panting. 

"Thank you," he gasps. It takes a second for him to recover, then he sits up and runs his hands over his torso. "I feel normal. I think." 

Scorpius hesitates, then darts from the safety of his doorway and crosses the room to James, so he can offer him a hand up. "You should probably go to St Mungo's still," he tells him. "They can make sure you're the right size." 

James nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I wonder if being a bit more buoyant would be considered cheating by the Quidditch league?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No idea." He turns round and looks for Albus. "We should go and help him now, don't you think?" 

"Definitely," James says grimly. 

Across the room, Albus has managed to break free of the fireworks. He's ducked underneath them, and is now holding them at bay with a Shield Charm. There's still a perfume bottle spraying him with clouds and clouds of scent, and the Pygmy Puffs are still collected around his feet, but he seems to be moving a lot faster now the fireworks are under control. That is, until he passes a table of big, murky brown Portable Swamp boxes. 

Scorpius doesn't see how it happens, it's too fast to keep track of. There's a blinding flash of golden light, a squelching sound, and a puff of smoke, then Albus yells. When the smoke clears, Scorpius sees that he's sunk up to his waist in some sort of quagmire, and now he's flailing around, trying to escape, but doing nothing except digging himself deeper and deeper. The Pygmy Puff on his shoulder seems to sense danger, because it climbs up and perches on top of his head instead. 

"Scorpius!" Albus calls, thrashing in the mud. "James! Help!" 

"I'll get him," James says to Scorpius. "You go for the potion." He's so full of purpose that Scorpius doesn't think to argue. He throws one last look at Albus, then goes racing a different route across the room. 

He can't run very fast because he leg is really aching now. He can feel the Painkilling Potion wearing off and the pain seeping out. It crawls through his veins, and he feels sick from it, but he doesn't stop. He can't stop. Curling up on the floor and crying won't help anyone, so he refuses to do it. 

He's not sure he's ever felt this bad before. His chest is tight, his left leg seems almost too weak to stand on. There's a coldness creeping through the right side of his body. His heart feels like someone is squeezing it. He can taste vomit in his throat. But the Love Potion is just across the room, and it's the only way to make this stop. 

A couple of bedraggled Pygmy Puffs (that seem to have narrowly missed being caught in the swamp) follow him as he limps as fast as can through the maze of tables and merchandise stands. Through the shop window next to him, he can see the shapes of people in cloaks rushing down the street and converging on the shop, wands drawn. He pushes himself faster and faster until he breaks into a run, gasping for breath. 

Everything hurts. He thinks his legs might give out under him. This shop is so loud, with the explosions of fireworks and the blaring voice of the alarm; it makes him feel confused, makes his head ache. His lungs are surely going to explode. And Albus still hasn't stopped screaming and splashing in the swamp, even though James is with him now, trying to haul him out. 

Get the potion, Scorpius tells himself. Get the potion, then help Albus. That's what he has to do. That's what he has to focus on. He's dying, he can feel it, different bits of him starting to shut down, and he doesn't want to, so he _needs_ that potion. 

He puts his head down and pushes forward, racing past the last couple of tables to the stand of Love Potions by the door. Spells fly past his head, and the fireworks seem to have turned their attention on him, but he ignores them. It costs him valuable energy, but he puts up a Shield Charm as he runs, trying not to think about how much it hurts just to hold his wand. Icy shards of pain shoot us his left arm, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to keep himself steady. 

He's so lost in trying to keep himself going that he almost runs straight into the Love Potion stand when he reaches it. He catches himself on the wooden shelf, glass bottles clinking as he hits. He grips the wood to hold himself up while he takes some deep breaths, head bowed, chest aching. 

It takes longer than he would have liked to gather together enough brain power to actually look at the potions, and when he does he realises there are all sorts of different ones, and he has no idea which to choose. He looks up, wanting Albus's advice, but Albus is still thrashing in the swamp, with James gripping his arms to help him. 

"Have you got the potion yet?" James yells, when he notices him looking.

Scorpius shakes his head. "I don't know which is the right one!" 

"It doesn't matter," Albus shouts. "Just grab one and come and help us." 

Scorpius looks at the stand in front of him. So many colours and labels. It's overwhelming, and his brain doesn't seem to be running as fast as it should. He doesn't know what to do. What if he takes the wrong one? What if he ruins the potion and never gets healed? How is he supposed to make a decision like this?

He braces himself on the counter and closes his eyes, drawing in several deep breaths. _Think, Scorpius, think_ , he scolds himself. He screws his face up and thinks of his mum, trying to work out what she would say to him if she were here right now. Probably to trust himself and follow his instincts, but he doesn't know what his instincts are. He feels lost and sick, and he just wants to sit down and give up. 

He shakes his head. No, he won't give up. He can't. Not now. He rakes his fingers through his hair and makes a decision. His favourite colour, he can take the one that's his favourite colour: a bright emerald green, the colour of Slytherin, and Albus's eyes, and the Manor grounds when it's been raining. Life, and love, and home. 

He opens his eyes, and to his relief there's a bottle almost the exact colour he'd thought of. He grabs it and tucks it into his pocket, too tired to wave it in the air in celebration like he wants to. _Just save energy_ , he tells himself. _Just get to Albus, and then you can get out of here_. 

Albus has stopped struggling quite so much, and it looks like James has made progress with getting him out of the swamp. He's only thigh deep now, and the Pygmy Puff has managed to hop from his shoulder onto dry land, where it's now sitting next to James and vibrating, Scorpius suspects from anxiety. 

To get to Albus and James, he has to let go of the stand of Love Potions, and he half expects his legs to immediately crumple when he does. But to his surprise, although they go a bit shaky, he manages to stay upright. He uses the various tables and counters for support as he skirts the swamp and goes to join James. 

"I think we're nearly there," James grunts, tugging on Albus's wrists. He's covered in mud and sweat, and he looks exhausted. Albus is red faced and irritable-looking. 

"I think one of my shoes has come off," he informs James. 

"Well we'll stop pulling so hard then," James snaps. "Scorpius, can you help?" 

"I don't know if..." His arm is aching, and he doesn't have the strength to be any use right now. But then there's the sound of loud voices outside, and someone starts hammering on the door, like they're trying to break it down. Another voice, even louder, tells them to stop. 

"Uncle Ron," Albus gasps. "We need to go." 

There's nothing else for it. Scorpius tucks his wand away, lets his Shield Charm drop, and grabs Albus by his left arm. Albus hisses and screws his face up. 

"Shoulder," he says. "It hurts." 

"Stop being a baby," James says. "Scorpius, on three. One, two-" 

They both pull as hard as they can. Albus yells with pain, Scorpius feels like his arms are on fire, but the mud seems to give, and within a couple of seconds, Albus slithers out onto the solid floor, where he lies gasping in a heap. Scorpius collapses next to him, trying and failing to hold his arm in a way that doesn't hurt. James sits down hard beside them and runs a shaky hand through his hair. 

"You two need to go," he says. "Right now. You have the potion, right Scorpius?" 

Before Scorpius gets chance to respond, he feels something hit him hard in the back, some spell or something. A very strange sensation trickles through his body, and he feels himself shrinking and changing, Transfiguring into something that definitely isn't human. But whatever he's turning into, he likes it because he doesn't feel much pain at all. It seems to be fading away, and he feels almost normal again. Normal apart from the fact that the world has suddenly become enormous. 

He looks around. The merchandise table beside him towers overhead; the swamp is a vast ocean of mud; James is an enormous, blue-haired giant, stomping, panicked, waving his arms and shouting things Scorpius doesn't understand. And Albus- 

Where is Albus?

Scorpius looks wildly around, having to move his whole body to turn on the little paws he now seems to have pattering beneath him. There's no sign of Albus anywhere. Or at least, no sign of a human Albus. There's just a fluffy purple Pygmy Puff sitting exactly where Albus had been moments ago, squeaking at the top of its lungs. 

All at once, Scorpius realises what's happened. They've been turned into Pygmy Puffs. 

And now he can see why Albus is shrieking, because this isn't really a situation they can get themselves out of. Scorpius doubts they can do magic in this state, and he can't help but wonder if they're permanently stuck like this. But at the same time, being like this doesn't hurt, and anything that doesn't hurt right now is fine by him. 

He rolls over onto his head and down onto his feet again. He's basically just a ball of fluff now and it's actually quite fun. He rolls sideways towards Albus, who seems to be panicking, wanting to let him know that everything is more than fine. 

When he gets there, he snuggles against Albus's side and purrs at him. Pygmy Puffs can't talk, but they still have an impressive vocal array, and Scorpius is determined to make the most of it. 

"This is okay," he tries to say without words. "I'm not in pain. And they won't recognise us like this. We're alright." He doesn't know if the message translates, but it's the best he can do.

Albus looks at him with big, round eyes that are dark but still have a tinge of their usual green. He looks scared and frustrated, and Scorpius wants to hug him, but that's impossible without arms. 

He struggles to work out what to do instead, and as he does the other Pygmy Puff, the one that had been perched on Albus's shoulder, comes over and gives Albus a gentle, encouraging nudge. Albus glares at it, and Scorpius gives a little chirrup, trying to make it clear that Albus is his. The other Pygmy Puff seems to get the message, because it backs away a bit. It stays close by though, making comforting thrumming sounds, that actually seem to be calming Albus down. 

He turns his big, adorable eyes on Scorpius, and makes a 'what do we do?' sort of squeak. Scorpius tries to shake his head, but ends up overbalancing and doing a somersault. Albus gives him a hard look. 

"Sorry!" Scorpius tries to squeak at him. "Not used to this body." He stays as still as can while he looks up at James, hoping for some help. A reverse Transfiguration spell or something. He's comforted to see that James actually does have his wand out and seems to be trying things. A couple of spells whoosh past him, ruffling his fur and warming him up. They don't seem to do anything though, and James looks like he's getting frustrated. 

The banging outside the front door of the shop is getting louder, and Scorpius sees James point his wand at it and say something. They need to change back, right now. But how? Maybe if they think hard enough about being human or something... 

Albus has started his panicked squeaking again, and Scorpius gives him a brief, comforting chirp. Overhead, James seems to have realised that they're panicking, because he leans down close, gives Albus a pat on the head, and starts casting spells again. 

This time he seems to have found the right one. When he directs his wand at Albus, Scorpius sees him begin to swell, larger and larger. Features appear, a nose; his eyes shrink, arms and legs grow longer, purple hair recedes and fades to brown, but doesn't get any less fluffy, and then Albus is lying on the floor, looking rather dazed, but very much whole. His Pygmy Puff friend gives a delighted whistle and hops up onto his knee. James punches the air, and points his wand at Scorpius. 

Turning back into a human is just as odd an experience as shrinking into a Pygmy Puff. The most bizarre thing is the way his fingers and toes grow from tiny paws back to their usual size. He wiggles them as they lengthen, glad to have them back. He reaches up and runs them through his own, normal, still overlong hair. Then he pats them down his front and back, appreciating his body, actually glad not to be a ball of fluff anymore. 

And then he stops being glad, and starts wishing he could go back to being a Pygmy Puff immediately. 

Pain. Intense. Overwhelming. Searing through his body in one jagged jolt. Like lighting. Like he's being carved in two. 

He loses all control and screams. He can't do anything with his limbs. The whole world is agony. Surely this is how he dies. On this cold, wet floor, screaming. 

Arms close around him, solid and strong. He gets a whiff of flowery scent, feels fingers stroke through his hair, and the cold rim of a bottle press to his lips. Then refreshing numbness spreads down his throat and into his body. Everything still hurts, but it's more bearable. Bearable enough to open his eyes and see that Albus is staring down at him, very afraid. 

"I’m fine,” Scorpius lies in answer to Albus’s unspoken question. His voice is hoarse and uncomfortable after all the yelling. "Better. Thanks." 

"You don't look fine," Albus says in a very unsteady voice, like he's on the verge of tears. "Are you okay to-" 

Across the shop there's a splintering of wood, and with an almighty crash the door flies open. 

Albus and James both swear. 

"Go!" James says. "I'll handle this." 

"But-" Albus starts, but James cuts him off. 

"Finish the fucking cure, Albus. Save his life. Go on."

Albus doesn't need telling twice apparently. His grip tightens on Scorpius's chest, and Scorpius looks up at him. 

"Home," he says, and Albus nods. Then he twists both their bodies, so they Apparate from the floor and disappear into nothingness, leaving James behind to face his doom. 


	16. Not the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry interrogates James, and Draco receives the letter from Rose...

Draco isn't really reading the papers in his hand, he's just shuffling them, staring blankly at the words and taking none of them in, then sliding each sheet of parchment to the back of the pack to start all over again. He doesn't even know why he's bothering. He's not going to this auction; none of these items are of any value to him. But it's something to do, something to keep him occupied, and this is better than pacing around the Potters' kitchen feeling like a very anxious intruder. 

They've heard nothing, and even though it's only been a few hours, the idea that they'd been so close to getting Scorpius back is torturing him. If the boys had come home they could have all worked together to get the last few ingredients, whatever those might be. It would have been a lot quicker. It might have brought them a handful of precious, lifesaving minutes. 

But no. The boys are gone. Vanished. And they've probably taken with them the last chance he could have had to see Scorpius alive.

Upset, irritable, burning with worry, he slaps the auction papers onto the desk and buries his face in his hands. He feels the cool press of his wedding ring against his forehead but it's not comforting. It just makes guilt gnaw away inside him. 

He promised her. He promised Astoria that he would never let any harm come to their son. He promised that he would be a good father, that he'd help Scorpius grow up happy and healthy and strong, so he could flourish among the weeds of this hateful world. He promised, and he failed. He's failed over and over and over again, and this failure, possibly the last one, is the worst of all because he's been trying so hard and it's been going so well. Until now.

He lifts his head and runs his fingers through his hair. There are lots of discarded bits of parchment on his desk, all crumpled and tear-stained and torn up, but he knows exactly where the recipe for the cure is. It's a particularly yellow bit of parchment, all curled up in one corner, a bit crinkly from water damage, and he picks it up and smooths it out on the table. 

He knows it off by heart now, but he still reads through it:

_One vial of Phoenix Tears_

_Two pieces of wood from a willow tree_

_Seven basilisk teeth, crushed_

_The remnants of a sacrifice_

_A single memory of love_

_A single bottle of Love Potion_

He wonders how much of this they already have. The Phoenix Tears almost certainly, and Basilisk Fangs, and they went to Godric's Hollow for the sacrifice. But what about the rest of it? How close are they to being done? 

The only thing he knows for certain is that they have to come to him once it's ready. They _have_ to.  It won't work otherwise. As much as Albus loves Scorpius, and as grateful as Draco is for that most of the time, it's nothing compared to how much Draco loves him. Draco is certain of that.

No one else has been with Scorpius through every moment of his life, from the crushing depths of grief to moments of blissful joy over the last few years. Draco has seen him grow up, learn to walk and talk, has seen him establish himself in the world and put down deep roots. Scorpius, his child, who contains within him all best bits of Astoria as well as something indefinably his own, has become someone the Draco is so immeasurably proud of, and Draco couldn't love him more if he tried. He wants to be part of the cure, needs to be, because he‘s sure it can’t happen without him. And all he can do is pray that Scorpius understands that before it's too late. 

He sets the recipe down and looks at the clock on his desk. It once belonged to Astoria, and it's beautiful, delicate gold fretwork weaving up into the shape of a bloom of roses. The clock is perched on top, its midnight blue face dotted with stars, with little planets orbiting round the outside. 

She was always fascinated by time, by the way seconds rush by, the way minutes stretch into hours, into days, and how before you know it the years are flying past. The years have moved too fast, both the years with her and the ones with Scorpius. The idea of a year is so long, but when those years are limited, they seem insignificant, too brief, almost intangible. 

The clock tells him that it's around the time that's both too late and too early all at once. No wonder he feels so exhausted. He's barely slept in a week, and now he's been up for too many hours to count. But there's no way he'd be able to sleep. 

He rubs his eyes and gets to his feet, tucking his chair under the desk. He paces round in a circle, glancing out of the window at the grey pre-dawn world. One of the peacocks is asleep on the lawn outside, head tucked under its wing. Scorpius has always hated those peacocks. Grandfather's Horcruxes, he calls them. It's such an apt description that Draco smiles just thinking of it, imagining the disgust on his face, Albus teasing him about it. 

"What are you scared of? They're just peacocks, Scorpius. Peacocks are harmless." 

Scorpius would fold his arms and shake his head. "No. They're evil. They've got it in for me... Their feathers make beautiful quills though." 

"Maybe that's why they've got it in for you. They don't want you stealing their feathers." 

Draco can almost see them nudging each other back and forth as they make their way through the garden. He's seen them do it countless times. He desperately hopes he'll get to see them do it again, over years and years to come. 

He's still gazing out of the window, remembering the past and praying for the future, when there's a soft tapping on the other window. There are two windows in the office, because it's quite a long room, one with a beautiful view of the garden, and another with a view onto a gnarled old oak tree, that grows close to the walls. It's been there as long as the house has, if not longer, and they've had to shape the roots to stop them damaging the foundations. No one has ever been able to move it because it's infested with Bowtruckles, like most of the trees in the Manor grounds. 

Draco frowns and walks over to the window. Who on earth would be sending an Owl at this time of night? Surely not Potter. He'd just send a Patronus message if anything happened. There's no one else he knows who might be sending him messages. He hasn't had any correspondence with anyone in over a week; there's a pile of unread letters downstairs on the table in the hall. Maybe someone's bothering him about one of those? But not at this time at night. No one would be so uncivilised. 

There's a very bedraggled-looking tawny owl sitting on the window ledge. He doesn't recognise it, but it looks like it's flown through some awful weather to get here. It's a bit shivery, all its feathers are ruffled, and it has a very indignant look on its face, like it knows it's been put through a lot, and it doesn't appreciate it. 

Draco opens the window, and the owl holds its ground, not fluttering back an inch. It just stays still and continues to glare at him, like its problems are all his fault. 

"I'll let you stay for the night and give you some food if you stop looking at me like that," he tells it. "If not, I'll leave you out here." 

The owl gives an indignant hoot and ruffles its feathers, but it stops glaring. 

"Thank you," Draco says. He steps back to let the owl fly in through the window. "Who are you from?" 

He walks across the room to where the owl is now perched on the back of his chair. It holds its leg out in answer, and he unties the letter, running one gentle finger over the owl's bedraggled head. "There's food and water downstairs, round the back of the house. You can stay there and recover if you like. I won't send you out again." 

The owl gives his finger a grateful little nibble, then takes off and soars out of the open window. Draco closes it to keep out the draught, and sits down at his desk, curious to read whatever letter has been sent to him in the middle of the night. 

He recognises the writing on the front of the envelope from letters he's seen sent to Scorpius. Also because Rose's handwriting looks remarkably like her mother's. Frowning, he flips the letter over. Why would she be writing in the middle of the night? Why would she send a letter here? Why would she be writing to him? None of it makes sense. 

He slits the letter open with one finger, not bothering with the letter opener on his desk, and pulls the parchment out. He smooths it onto the desk top and reads what Rose has written. Then he reads it again. And again. And again, trying to comprehend the enormity of what she's said. 

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

_I've just heard from James Potter, who's seen Albus and Scorpius tonight, that Scorpius is in a really bad way, and that they weren't sure how long he'll last. I know they've been somewhere dangerous tonight, and I'm scared that Scorpius might already be dead. I think he would have wanted you to see these letters before he died, especially if it seemed inevitable that he would die, so I think you should have them now._

_I'm writing to you to pass on some letters that Scorpius left with me for you. He told me to send them on if he died, so you could read about the adventures he's been having while he was away._

_Scorpius was a really great friend. I've loved knowing him all these years, and the world will be a darker place without him. I'm sorry we couldn't manage to save him for you, and I'm sorry he can't tell you all these things himself._

_Scorpius's friend always,_

_Rose_

Scorpius is dead? 

The weight of it hits him like a hammer blow, and he crumples into his seat as the whole world gives way beneath him. 

Scorpius is dead.

There's a physical sensation associated with having your heart broken, and Draco feels it now. A dead weight settles in the pit of his stomach. He feels so empty and so full at the same time. His hands are shaking, and the world has narrowed down to one single, awful focus. There's nothing else he can think of. Nothing else exists. Just this one awful truth. 

He feels numb. Emotionless. This was how he'd felt about Astoria too, and he'd hated himself for it. The inability to cry or feel anything beyond empty and shocked. Turmoil – rage and despair and denial – a tornado inside him, wrapped up so tightly than nothing can get out. All he can do is sit in silence and stare at his hands

It takes a long time, he doesn't know how long, before he starts thinking again, and when he does, he decides that he doesn't believe it. It can't be true, it simply can't. Scorpius, who is full of strength and determination and life cannot be dead. It's wrong. It's an impossibility. Scorpius and death are such opposing ideas that surely, if it were true, the world would have ground to a halt or shattered from the centre. 

He will not believe it. He cannot believe it. Not until he's seen Scorpius with his own eyes. Not until he's confirmed for himself that this is true. He won't even touch those letters. Because if Scorpius wanted to tell him all these stories in person, then he should get that chance, because there is a chance. There is always a chance. He won't let there not be a chance. 

He gets to his feet, full of purpose and determination. He faces himself in the mirror beside the fireplace, and he looks grim and intimidating, like his father, like nothing will stand in his way. Not life or death or magic or any person who exists in the world. 

He snatches Rose's letter off the table, takes a handful of Floo Powder, and steps into the fireplace. 

"Holly Cottage," he says, cold and clear, crumpling Rose's letter in his fist. 

 

James sits at the kitchen table in his parents' house and stares down at his knees. He can hear his dad out in the corridor, talking in a low voice to Uncle Ron. His mum is making tea with her back to him, and he's doing his very best not to look at her. 

He's grateful not to have been hauled back to the Ministry, but at the same time sitting at this kitchen table, surrounded by a tense, ominous silence, brings back horrible memories of all the times when he was little and he was being scolded for smashing next door's windows with his Quaffle, or breaking Albus's arm. He feels very small now, and a little scared, but mostly he's worried about Scorpius and Albus. 

He can still hear Scorpius's screams ringing in his ears, and he desperately wants to know where they both are. Whether they're alive. Whether the Love Potion will work. But he can't know any of that, and it's almost better that he doesn't know. It's up to him to protect them both now, and he's determined to do a good job. 

"Do you want milk in your tea?" His mum asks, turning to look at him. 

He glances up at her. "No, I'm okay," he says. "Thanks," he adds, just to stay on her good side. 

She slides a mug onto the table next to him. "You know where the sugar bowl is if you want it." 

"I'm not that thirsty," he says, nudging the mug away. He's too anxious to be thirsty. 

"I think you should have a drink," she says, and her voice is surprisingly gentle. She doesn't sound angry at all. 

He frowns suspiciously at the mug. "Does this have Veritaserum in it?" 

She tuts. "James, do you really think I would spike your drink? It's just tea." She brushes a hand through his messy hair, and he knows she's trying to flatten the sticky up bit at the back. "It's been a long night. And I suspect it's about to get longer." She rests a hand on his shoulder and looks down at him. "Your dad isn't happy." 

"Is Dad ever happy when it comes to Albus?" James asks, then immediately regrets it as his mum's expression goes stern. 

"He's really worried, James. About both of them. And I know he just wants Albus home safely." 

James nods. "I know. I think they will be back soon." He glances up at her. "Did Dad send you in here to be the good Auror?" 

She shakes her head. "Your father hasn't sent me anywhere. I don't know what he's planning to ask you. I'm just here to be your mum." She ruffles his hair. "You still have glitter on your face by the way." 

James screws his face up and starts trying to scrub it away on his cheek. "Uncle Ron's stupid security spells. You know he blew me up like a balloon too?" 

His mum grins. "Your uncles are all excellent wizards. Not to be underestimated." 

"No," James agrees. He picks up his teaspoon and peers at his reflection in the back of it. Most of his face seems free of glitter and make up now, although it's a little difficult to tell how clean he really is. 

His mum sits down at the kitchen table and watches him for a moment, before taking a breath. "How _is_ your brother?" 

James looks at her, and he knows it's a real question. She's not trying to get information from him. She's just worried. 

He sighs and puts the teaspoon down on the table, then he takes a sip of tea. "Alright I think. Worried. Scared. He looks a mess. And he's Splinched himself." 

She blinks and reels back a bit. "Splinched himself?" 

He nods. "His shoulder's all mangled. I tried to clean it up a bit, but I'm not really a Healer. It's a long way from perfect." 

She nods, and her fingers clench together where they're resting on top of the table. "Anything else I should be forewarned about?" 

"Not that I can think of," James says. "As long as Scorpius is okay I think he can survive anything else." 

"And _do_ you know?" She asks. "Where they're going?" 

James opens his mouth to protest against the question, but she holds her hand up to stop him. 

"I'm not going to ask you to tell me," she says. "You're as stubborn as your father. I know you won't say. But do you at least know?" 

He shrugs. "Albus didn't tell me. I could guess where they went, but it might not be helpful." He looks up and sees that her face has fallen. "I'm sorry," he says. "I wish I knew, Mum. I wish I could have gone with them. I could have helped, maybe." He shakes his head and takes another sip of tea. 

She gets to her feet. "It's alright, James." She stands behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders. "You saw them, you talked to them, it sounds like you did a good job of looking after them." She shifts to the side so she can look down at him, giving him a small, brave smile. "I think that's enough. It's better than what the rest of us have been doing. Stuck here. Worrying. Your dad's been going mad. Draco's even worse." 

James looks down into his tea mug and swills the liquid round and round. "Maybe it'd be safer for Al to never come home. Dad's going to kill him. I think you might kill him too when you see the state him." 

She shakes her head. "I don't know what we're going to do." 

James looks up at her. "They're nearly done though. With the cure. It might even work. If anyone can do it it's Albus." 

His mum gives a proud little smile and squeezes his shoulders. "Undoubtedly." For a moment she looks at him, then she leans down and kisses the top of his head. "I'm glad you're safe too. I hope your dad isn't too harsh." 

James groans. "Me too, Mum. Me too." 

 

Harry leans against the back of the chair and looks at James. He has his Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement face on, or as James likes to think of it, his 'I am your dad and I _do_ know better' face. It's terrifying, or at least it would be if James wasn't used to it. But he knows his dad, and this look rarely sticks around for long. If you can make him laugh it'll break as easily as glass. And anyway, James has his own face. He folds his arms and leans back in his seat, his best 'I'm your son and I really couldn't care less' expression of ambivalence on his face. 

His mum and Uncle Ron are standing in the corner of the room, side by side, but continually glancing at each other. They seem to be having an intense but silent conversation, and judging by the worry on his mum's face and the lack of anger on Uncle Ron's, the conversation is about his dad and not about him. 

"Where have they gone?" Harry asks. Brusque and no nonsense. 

James shakes his head. "I really couldn't tell you." 

"Were you there to get the Love Potion?" Harry asks, bending in lower over the chair, so he's leaning as far towards James as he can. "Which ingredients do they have now?" 

James frowns at his dad. "You know about the cure?"

"Yes," Harry says, pushing off the chair and folding his arms. "We do. Which ingredients have they got?" 

James sighs. "I don't know." He runs a hand through his hair. "Basilisk Teeth; I know they've been to Godric's Hollow, and they managed to get the Love Potion... You tell me what else they need." He shrugs and stretches his feet out in front of him. He's half tempted to put them up on the table, but he doesn't really want his dad to complete explode, especially not in a serious situation like this. It’s just fun to nudge him in that direction. 

His dad's jaw has gone dangerously tight, but he doesn't look away. He's not struggling to restrain himself just yet. "Did they tell you about any sort of plan they had? Do you know how many more ingredients they need? Do you have any idea if they're planning to come home at all?" 

"I didn't grill them about it," he says, taking a nonchalant sip of his tea. "Albus isn't exactly receptive to questioning. And you know I'm not good at remembering information. That's why he's your trainee Auror and I'm just a lowly Quidditch player." 

"This is serious, James," Harry shouts, voice and temper rising all at once, just the way James expected it to. 

"And I _seriously_ don't know," James replies. "You should have a cup of tea, Dad. It'll calm you down." 

His dad slaps his palm onto the table, making the mugs there rattle and sending tea sploshing over the sides. He spins around, running his hands through his hair, struggling with himself, and James glances at the other two in the corner. 

Uncle Ron gives Ginny a nudge, and she goes over to Harry. Meanwhile, Ron steps up to the table. 

"What did they need a Love Potion for so quickly that they had to break in?" He glances at Harry and Ginny. "I mean, Albus is really good at potions. And they could have just asked me. I'd have given it to them. Or they could have bought one in the morning. I don't get it." 

James looks at his uncle. "They... They didn't seem confident that Scorpius would last the night. And Albus didn't want to risk you telling dad." 

Harry turns around, and Ginny strokes a hand over his shoulder. Harry puts a hand on her arm and nudges her away. "They didn't think Scorpius would last the night?" He glances at Ginny, then at Ron, and takes a step forward. "It's that bad?" 

James hesitates, then nods, looking down at his hands. "He's in a really bad way. We found him some Painkilling Potion, but I don't think it lasted long. He can't move properly. It's like this disease is shutting him down bit by bit. Before you came into the shop-" He breaks off, remembering Scorpius's awful scream of pain, and he shudders. "I hope they're nearly done. I think they are. There isn't much time." 

"Someone should warn Draco," Ginny murmurs, meeting Harry's eyes, and he nods. He looks pale and wide-eyed with shock, like he's struggling to take it in.

"So really Malfoy should pay the damages then," Ron says, "since it was-" He breaks off as he glances around at the others. "If Scorpius survives, of course." 

"I think Draco needs to be here," Harry says, ignoring him. "For this discussion." He turns back to James. "We need every detail you can give us about Scorpius's condition."

James nods. "I can do that." 

Harry draws his wand. "I'll call him now, I can-" 

He never finishes the sentence. From the other room there's a distant whoosh of flames, the distinctive sound of a Floo arrival, and they all look at each other. 

"Could it be-" Ginny murmurs, and there's a little trace of hope in her voice.

"It hasn't been long enough," James says. 

Ron glances at Harry, and Harry shakes his head. 

"We're not expecting anyone." 

He takes a step toward the kitchen door, wand pointed towards it, and both Ron and Ginny draw their wands too. James gets to his feet and turns round, stepping close to his mum. As they listen, footsteps march down the hallway, and they all ready spells. But the person who appears in the doorway isn't an intruder. He's a familiar figure – tall and impressive, black robes swirling around him, mouth set in a grim line. Draco Malfoy strides into the room and everyone, even Ron, relaxes. 

"I was just about to call you, Draco," Harry says, lowering his wand. "What are you doing here?" 

In silence, Draco walks to him and holds out a letter. 

Harry takes a step back and frowns at it. "What is-" 

"Read it, Potter." 

Harry looks at the letter in Draco's hand and seems to be considering protesting, but then he relents and takes it. Draco turns away from Harry and looks around, taking in who else is there. 

"Do you want any tea?" Ginny asks when Draco looks at her, but he waves her away and shakes his head. He turns back to Harry and now seems to have eyes only for him. 

James can't help but notice that Draco's hands are shaking just a bit. While he's watching Harry he doesn't seem to be able to keep them still. He keeps messing with the ring on his left hand, and it looks as though he's drawing some sort of comfort from it. His shoulders relax when he's touching it. James can't tell if it's anger or upset that he's trying to relieve, but there's some inner turmoil going on.

James watches his dad's face for some clue, for some proof that this is about Scorpius, some sign about what the letter contains – good news or bad news. This can't be about anything else, can it? But his dad's expression remains unreadable as he finishes the letter. 

For a second he holds it in his hand and just stares at it, then he swallows and looks up at Draco. 

"Dead?" He asks, in a choked voice. 

Draco shakes his head. "No." 

"But this says-"

Draco snatches the letter back from Harry's hand. "I won't believe it."

"We've seen them," Harry says, "but not for an hour or so. They were at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." He looks at James. "Could Scorpius be dead by now?" 

James looks at his mum, then at Draco and Harry, standing side by side, identical expressions of deep seriousness on their faces. "He could," he says, trying desperately to come up with reasons to the contrary and failing. "It wasn't good. There was this- this poison sort of spreading through him. Last I saw..." He trails off, again remembering the way Scorpius had looked when he was lying there on the ground, screaming in agony, cradled in Albus's arms. "It looked like it had spread a lot. It wasn't slow. He could- he could be gone by now." 

There's a twitch in Draco's cheek, and James wonders if he's biting the inside of his mouth to try and restrain himself. He shakes his head and looks at Harry, expression hard as ice. "My son is not dead. You're going to find him, right now, and you're going to bring him back here, and we're going to cure this, whatever it takes." 

Harry runs a hand through his hair. "Draco, we have no idea where they are. They could be anywhere. And... even if we found them it might be too late." 

"This isn't the moment for you to develop a sense of realism, Potter," Draco snaps, and he turns to the others. "Weasley, do you have anything useful in your shop? Wards? Can you tell where they Apparated to? You must be able to give us something."

"Draco," Harry says softly.

"Ginny," Draco says, ignoring him. "Where would Albus take someone who was sick?" 

Ginny shakes her head and makes a vague, uncertain gesture. "He'd want to finish the potion, wherever he could do that." 

"Good," Draco says. "Then we need to know which ingredients they still haven't found."

"Draco," Harry tries again. "I don't think we should-" 

"James," Draco says, turning his back on Harry. "This letter says you saw them this evening. We need you to tell us everything. Anything and everything you can about where they came from, how they looked, what they were planning next-"

"Draco, please-"

Draco continues, voice raised now to drown Harry out. "Any details they mentioned about the potion."

James glances at his dad before nodding, and Draco turns to Harry. 

"Potter, the Aurors. They should check the shop. There must be some clues. I know you can tell these sorts of things, so get to work, and-"

"Draco," Harry says hopelessly, raising his volume to arch Draco's. "We don't know anything. And Scorpius might already be-"

"MY SON IS NOT DEAD!" Draco roars in his face. The whole kitchen goes dead silent as Draco reels back a step and points a threatening finger at Harry, voice going dangerous and low. "He's not dead. He's-" He chokes and breaks off, turning away from them all, and Ginny rushes to put a hand on his shoulder. The rest of them stand motionless, stunned, and she turns to glare at them. 

"Do what he said," she orders. "Harry, Ron... just do it."

Ron glances at Harry, looking very uncomfortable. James assumes he's not happy about taking orders from Draco Malfoy. But after a bit of foot shuffling and hesitancy he sighs. "Fine, well I should go back to the shop anyway. I need to talk to George." He gestures towards the door, backs his way out of the room, then flees down the hall. James hears the front door slam behind him.

Harry seems even more uncertain. He stays hovering beside the table, looking a bit lost. "We're doing all we can," he says finally, addressing Draco's back. "There are Aurors at the shop, some of the best. If there's anything to be found we'll find it. And we have people out all over the country. All our contacts are on the lookout. If we see even the tiniest glimpse of either of them we'll have them. I promise." 

James looks between Draco and his dad, then he walks over to stand next to Harry. "Mr Malfoy..." he says, soft, unsure of whether Draco will lash out again. "They're determined to do this. I don't think Albus will let anything happen to Scorpius. I don't know where they're going but I'm sure they're nearly done with this. If anyone can do this, they can. Albus loves Scorpius. He's going to save him."

Draco twists round and looks at him and Harry, expression back under control. Ginny takes a step away from him and gives James a small smile and a nod. 

Draco's expression is unreadable, restrained and set, his jaw tight. The only things that give him away are the slight bow of his head, and his eyes which are burning with desperate, infuriated grief and fear. He surveys all three of them with a sweep of that searing gaze. "If anything happens to Scorpius," he says, soft, threatening, like the first murmur of wind before the sort of gale that sweeps away brooms, and destroys goalposts and stands. "I will not be held responsible for my actions. So don't. Let anything. Happen... For your own sake, Potter, and for mine. Understand?" 

Harry nods. "I understand perfectly, Draco." 


	17. Shards and Strands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With just two ingredients left to get, the boys head to Malfoy Manor in search of willow wood and a memory of love. There, in the pre-dawn darkness, with Scorpius fading away by the second, Albus starts to make the cure...

The first thing that hits Scorpius when the crushing darkness recedes is the smell. It's not as vivid as it usually is, but there's a faint scent of flowers, the musty smell of old artefacts and books, and that indefinable neutrality and familiarity of home. He closes his eyes and breathes in as deep as he can. He didn't think he'd make it back here, but he has, and it's wonderful. 

"Are you okay?" Albus asks, and Scorpius opens his eyes to the sight of that concerned emerald gaze shining down at him. The Pygmy Puff that befriended Albus in the shop is perched on his shoulder. It looks just as concerned.

Scorpius nods. "I'm fine." It's partly true and partly not true at all. He's fine because he's here. Back in the Manor. Home, with all its accompanying memories and baggage, and that wonderful feeling of safety and comfort and belonging. He's always been able to be anything here. He's always been able to be himself. But at the same time he's really not fine because he can feel ice in his veins, and he's not sure how long his heart will keep beating through the burning pain. His whole body is seizing up, and even just looking at Albus now he can feel the poison creeping further and further. Every word, every touch, every glance is an inch closer to death, and he doesn't have much life left to spare. 

"You're not fine," Albus concludes. "Can I look at you? Can I see how- how quick we need to be?" 

Scorpius hugs himself to stop Albus inspecting the state of him. "Fast," he says. "You don't need to look."

"Scorpius." Albus touches his wrist, just the gentlest brush of fingers, but it sends a jolt of agony searing up his arm, and he twists to the side with a yelp. Albus reels back in horror. 

"I'm sorry!" he gasps. "I didn't know. I didn't realise. Scorpius this is really-"

"Not wonderful," Scorpius groans. "I noticed." At least the bolt of pain was fleeting. It didn't linger. Not that that's much comfort when the rest of him is still aching. 

He pushes himself up on his elbows and his head swims. He buries his face in his hand and takes several deep breaths. When he's composed himself and is almost ninety percent sure he won't pass out if he tries to get up, he looks at Albus and holds a hand out. "Help me up?" 

Albus doesn't help him. He shakes his head and crosses his arms.

"Let me see you first. Please. And you really shouldn't be letting me hold your hand." 

Scorpius rolls his eyes. "Albus, really. We've been over this. If this is happening, it's happening my way. And anyway, while I obviously do want to hold your hand, I also _need_ to. I'm not going anywhere on my own, and you don't know where the wand shards are." 

Albus folds his arms, jaw tightening to a stubborn line. "This is different. I touched you and it hurt. This is worse than it was before. A lot worse. Anything I do could-" He shakes his head, and the Pygmy Puff on his shoulder nuzzles against his neck, like it wants to comfort him.

Scorpius falls down onto the floor, unable to hold himself up anymore. He just doesn't have the strength in his arms. He lies there and glares up at Albus, irritated at him for being so stubborn. "If I let you look at me will you help me up?" 

The tightness in Albus's jaw relaxes just a little, and Scorpius senses weakness. 

"I can't finish this potion without you, and you can't do it without me. Albus, please." 

Albus hesitates for a moment, then he kneels down next to Scorpius and runs his fingers through Scorpius's hair. 

"It's still a bit pink," he murmurs. "From when we were transformed."

Scorpius sighs at the touch, and leans his head into Albus's hand. "Everything hurt less as a Pygmy Puff... I enjoyed being fluffy."

Immediately, Albus stops touching him hair. "I prefer you like this," he says. "Not the hurting part though."

Scorpius looks at him. "That's why we need to do this." 

Albus sighs. "Alright. But you have to tell me if it hurts too much. We'll find some other way. I can carry you with magic or something instead." 

Scorpius nods. "Anything. Just get me upstairs." 

"I will," Albus says, brushing a curl of hair away from Scorpius's eyes. "But first I want to see the damage." 

Scorpius looks up at him, at the set determination in his face, and he trusts him. He closes his eyes and moves his hands out of the way, so Albus can move aside any clothes he needs to for this. "Go on." 

Albus doesn't touch his skin even once. The most Scorpius feels is tug of his jacket being unzipped, the cold air on his arm as Albus rolls up the sleeve of his jumper, then the pinch of Albus's fingers as he plucks aside the collar of his shirt to see his shoulder. After that he feels nothing at all, and everything is so quiet that he opens his eyes to check that Albus is still there. 

He is, but now he's sitting a foot away, staring at Scorpius like he doesn't know what to do. The Pygmy Puff is perched on his knee, purring softly, and Albus is absently stroking its fur, eyes wide, a look of pure shock on his face. When he notices Scorpius looking at him he gives a faint smile, but it's thin and stretched and haunted.

"Is it that bad?" Scorpius asks. 

The ghost of a smile vanishes as Albus gestures to his shoulder. "It's gone all grey. Almost to your collar bone. It's just... it's everywhere." He draws in a sharp breath and gets to his feet, letting the Pygmy Puff hop up on top of his head. "We need to go." He holds his hand out. "I'll help you. We can take it slow up the stairs. As slow as you need to." 

Scorpius sits up and takes Albus's hand. It's like an electric shock when their skin meets. A jagged icicle of pain tears up his arm, and he has to take a second to compose himself. Albus seems to consider pulling his hand back at Scorpius's reaction, but Scorpius clings on tighter until the initial sensation fades. 

When it's gone he struggles to get himself to his feet. It's not easy when his legs don't want to cooperate. They feel like jelly, but stiff at the same time. When he tries to put his weight on them they snap out from under him and he bangs his knee on the stone floor as he falls. In the end, Albus has to crouch beside him and put an arm round him to support him. 

Together they manage to get Scorpius on his feet. Climbing the stairs is a slow and painful process. Scorpius spends the whole walk apologising for having to put all his weight on Albus, while Albus shushes and grumbles and tells him to stop saying sorry. But Scorpius can't. 

He hates everything about this. He hates being so weak. He hates not being able to move for himself. He hates having to rely on Albus for help. He'd thought when he got sick that he understood what things must have been like for his mum when she was at her sickest, but only now does he realise that he'd had no idea. _This_ is the hell she went through on and off in the years before she died. And Scorpius wishes he'd done more to help her while he could. 

When they reach the upper floor, Scorpius gently extricates himself from Albus's grip and leans against the wall for a break. Albus hovers beside him, but takes the opportunity to look at their surroundings. He doesn't often come upstairs in the Manor, and they definitely don't linger in this particular hallway. 

"Your mum," he says, walking across the corridor and looking up at one of the framed photos that line the wall. 

Scorpius plants his back against the wall and looks across at where Albus is pointing. "That's one of my favourite photos of her. I think Dad took it while they were still dating." He summons his strength and pushes off the wall, stumbling across to stand beside Albus and grasping hold of his arm. Albus glances across to make sure he's okay, but Scorpius only has eyes for the photo of his mum. She looks beautiful, kneeling in front of her rose bushes, shears in hand, inspecting the blossoms, lost in what she's doing. She doesn't even seem to realise she's being watched. 

"We need to take more photos," Albus says quietly. "When all this is over. I don't have enough of you. Of us. We need more." 

Scorpius squeezes his arm. "Maybe we can wait until I don't look half dead already? You don't need photos of me while I'm sick."

Albus looks at him, then he reaches up and brushes aside some of the long curls of hair that keep falling in Scorpius's eyes. "You still look beautiful."

Scorpius meets his gaze. "Do you really think that?"

Albus nods. "I really do." 

"It doesn't scare you?" He asks. "Seeing me like this? Because it scares me." He pushes up the left sleeve of his jacket and exposes his wrist, now tinged with a horrible greyish-green. Albus reaches out and grabs Scorpius's right hand, making him drop the sleeve. 

"Yes," Albus says. "It's terrifying. But that doesn't mean-" He squeezes Scorpius's hand then releases it. "However sick you look, you're still you. You're still Scorpius. And I still love you. And this is just a temporary-" 

Scorpius grins and puts on a silly, posh voice. "A temporary aberration." 

Albus puts his hands on his shoulders. "We can fix this. We're going to fix this." 

He looks so set and determined, fire burning bright in his eyes, that Scorpius wants nothing more than to kiss him. But that would be suicidal at this point, so instead he just pats Albus on the waist and takes hold of one of his arms. 

"Enough talk. We need to go and get these wand shards." 

Albus nods and wraps an arm round his waist. "Your room is along here, isn't it?" 

Scorpius smiles. "You should know. You've visited it enough times." 

Albus's stony expression cracks into a soft smile for a moment. "I was trying to be polite," he says, giving Scorpius a very gentle nudge. 

Scorpius summons the energy to nudge him back, then gestures along the hall. "My room is the third on the left." 

The door is slightly ajar when they reach it, and Scorpius nudges it open further with his foot. It's dark inside. The curtains are drawn the way they were when Scorpius left for St Mungo's in the summer. He hasn't been back here for a long time, and he guesses his dad hasn't come in here either, apart from perhaps to tidy things up, because all Scorpius's stuff is in order and in its proper place. It wasn't like that when he left. 

He steps inside and holds the door for Albus, then he limps straight across to the chest of drawers and sinks onto the carpet. Albus goes and opens the curtains, sending the very first pale rays of sun into the room and turning everything grey and shadowy. He lights the two lamps hung over Scorpius's bed, then sinks down onto the mattress with a soft creak. 

"It's a lot neater than I remember it," he says, and Scorpius glances round to see him sitting with his legs crossed, surveying the room, the Pygmy Puff now sitting on the bed beside him.

"Dad's been in here," Scorpius says. "He tidies things when he's worried. It gives him something to do." 

Albus looks up and down the bed, then he picks up one of the pillows and throws it at Scorpius. Scorpius fumbles it but manages to grab it before it hits him in the face. 

"What was that for?" 

Albus smiles. "Messing it up for you." He seizes hold of the duvet, careful to let his new friend hop out of the way first, and pulls it down the bed, rumpling it up, then he gets to his feet and starts pulling random books from the book shelves and putting them back all haphazardly. 

"My dad will not be happy with you," Scorpius grins, leaning against the chest of drawers to watch him. 

"I just want it to feel lived in," Albus says, tossing a book or two onto Scorpius's bedside table, in a random pile. "It should feel like you live in it. I don't care if you haven't been here for months. This is weird." 

Scorpius throws the pillow at his back. "Do you have Bathilda? She's the best way to make it like I live here." 

Albus looks round at him, eyes lighting up. "Yes, I do!" He dumps the backpack onto the ground and pulls Bathilda out of it, then throws her across to Scorpius who catches her and sits her in his lap. 

"That's better." 

Albus grins and starts going through the wardrobe, picking out a couple of scarves and a jumper, and tossing them on the bed. Scorpius continues to watch him for a moment, enjoying how at home he looks, how he's perfectly comfortable with messing up Scorpius's stuff. If there's one thing Scorpius is looking forward to more than anything about the end of all this, it's going back to how they were before; sharing a dorm, living and working side by side, everything simple and easy and companionable. He doesn't want being around Albus to hurt anymore. As much as the pain is worth it, it's not good. To love without pain will be a great thing. 

He tears his eyes away from Albus and rubs his aching chest as he looks down at the bottom drawer. It's been left ever so slightly open, and he knows didn't leave it that way. 

"Albus," he murmurs. 

Albus stops artfully scattering socks on the floor and looks across at him. "What is it?" 

Scorpius beckons to him. "The drawer's open. I think... my dad might have been here."

Albus drops his pile of socks on the bed and walks over to Scorpius, crouching next to him. "Does he know about your wand? Does he know where you keep it?" 

Scorpius nods. "He would have known. Maybe he guessed I'd come here. What if he's taken the shards?" He reaches out to open the drawer, but Albus grabs hold of his arm to stop him. 

"Wait." He draws his wand. "If your dad knew you'd come here, then maybe he set some sort of trap. They can't find us now. There might be something to alert him to the fact that you're here."'

Scorpius tucks his hair out of his eyes. He feels very tired, and very weak, and all he wants to do is get the wand shards out. He doesn't need another puzzle right now. "So how do we got in then?" 

"I know some spells," Albus says, a little frown on his face. "At least I hope I do... Do you trust me?" 

"Go on." Scorpius gives him a nod and hugs Bathilda to his chest. 

Albus twists his wand round in his hand, staring down at the drawer, then he starts tracing complicated little patterns in the air. It's not often that Scorpius gets to see Albus do difficult magic – Albus is always keen to avoid it as much as possible – but on those occasions when he has the confidence or the need to try it out it's always impressive. There's a quiet surety to it. It's not showy or spectacular, just careful and controlled, with the slightest edge of hope, like Albus is throwing up a prayer that his skill and talent and knowledge won't desert him when he needs them most. 

The seconds stretch on as Albus works, and Scorpius considers lying down on the floor for a rest if this takes much longer. But finally Albus opens his eyes and lowers his wand. 

"It's safe," he says, in a slightly shaky voice. "At least I hope it is. It should be. I couldn't spot any spells on the drawer, but there's something inside. I think they might have put something on the shards themselves, but I think it's easier to undo than it is to detect." 

"You're brilliant," Scorpius tells him. "Are you alright?" 

Albus runs a hand through his hair. "Tricky spell, that's all. And you can't ask me if I'm alright. I'm not important." He reaches out and opens the drawer before Scorpius can open his mouth to protest. "Do you want to do the honours?" 

Scorpius gives him a look, then decides he's too tired to argue. He sets Bathilda down on the carpet and wriggles awkwardly onto his knees so he can peer down at the detritus in the drawer. 

He removes the peacock feather quills and places them gently on the floor, then he picks up his nature book, and the letters from his mum, and his beautiful copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard too, and sets them aside. Finally he picks out the photo album that Albus had given him just a couple of years ago. As he runs his fingers over the cover he grins, and looks up at Albus.

"You wanted photos of me. There are plenty in here." 

Albus brightens up and reaches out for it. "I got you this!"

"Yes, you did." Scorpius hands it across to him. Albus takes it and flips it open, starting to flick through the pages, and Scorpius shuffles up next to him to look over his shoulder. 

There are a hundred different photos in there. Almost all of the two of them. They're laughing and hugging and dancing and hitting each other with pillows and flying in the Weasley’s orchard. There are some of them studying, or just looking at each other. Albus pauses on one photo of Scorpius, sitting in a shaft of sunlight that glows golden through his hair, making it look as though he has a halo. He isn't looking at the camera, and it doesn't seem like he's even noticed it, he's just turning pages, all his focus on the book. 

"I remember this," Albus murmurs. "You were rereading A History of Magic for the thousandth time, and you looked like you were completely lost, in the best way. I was almost jealous of the book."

Scorpius smiles. "Sorry I was ignoring you." 

"I wished you were paying me that much attention." Albus says, looking at him. "But you weren't, so I decided to take photos instead. Because you looked so beautiful." 

"It is a nice photo," Scorpius agrees. "Did I really look like that?" 

Albus nods. "I think that was when I realised..." He swallows. "I loved you from the first second, but I didn't know that I _loved_ you, you know? Not until then. And when I realised, I wanted to kiss you more than anything in the world." 

Scorpius grins and takes the book back from him. "You should have done it. I doubt I would have complained."

"Well I didn't know that!" Albus sighs. "I wasted so much time being an idiot. I'm sorry. If I'd just done it... we could have dated for years before you got sick." 

Scorpius shakes his head. "Don't think about the past. Think about all the-" he catches his breath as a spike of pain shoots out from his heart, and the world goes a bit fuzzy round the edges. "Think about all the years we have ahead." He pushes a smile onto his face and rubs his hand against his shoulder, which feels icy and painful. "And do whatever you need to do to those wand shards. We need to get a move on." 

"Sorry!" Albus says. "I'm sorry." He rushes onto his knees and directs his wand into the drawer. The two twisted, whittled bits of wood are lying in the bottom, pale, with the silvery unicorn hair still linking them together. Albus mutters a few words and gestures his wand up and down the shards. There's a flash of golden light, that seems to run the length of the two shards, then it dissipates, breaking apart and disappearing into nothingness. 

"There," he says, looking down at them. "They should be safe now. Do you want to do the honours?" 

Scorpius reaches into the bottom of the drawer and scoops out the two halves of his beloved old wand. He can feel the carved marks on the wood, the numerals he'd scratched there to mark the days and weeks after his mum's death. The wand still feels warm in his hand, it seems to hum, and he can see the sparks running along the fragile thread of hair. It still wants to work for him. It always has.

The idea of giving up this wand, his first one, which was so good to him; his first sign of belonging to the wizarding world, is just heartbreaking. He doesn't know if he can do this. The concept of losing the thing that helped him through the bullying and rumours, the loss of his mother, his journey to that horrific other world... It feels awful. 

But he needs this. The wand that gave everything for him can now save his life if he lets it.

He runs his thumb over the carved A, and the crown. There's nothing in this potion that means as much as this. These are all his memories and emotions, his magic. This was his everything for so long. And the whole point of this wand was to heal. He wanted to use it to heal other people, but if healing himself is all he can do with it now, then that's better than nothing... 

This is a sacrifice. A huge one. But he can do it. He has to. If anything can make the potion work, it's this. This is special. 

He holds the shards out to Albus. "Here. I think you should take these."

Albus hesitates, then reaches out and gingerly lets them lie across his palms, careful not to jog them and sever the connection. "So now we just need the memory." He looks at Scorpius. "One of your memories." 

Scorpius nods. "I need to find the right one." He looks at Albus. "Do you think that, while I think about it, you could start brewing the potion?" He picks anxiously at the collar of his shirt. He can feel the ice spreading further onwards, into his neck. He feels cold and numb, stiff and slow. His fingers keep slipping on the fabric, and his arm feels so heavy, almost too heavy to hold up. "A memory... a strong enough one... I'm not sure what damage it'll do to me, Albus. I think the memory should be the last thing to go in, maybe. I think I should wait until we're completely ready. I don't want you to run out of time." 

Albus looks into his eyes, and Scorpius knows he understands. He can see the fear and determination shining there. Emerald flames burning. 

“Okay," he says, voice strong and full of certainty. "Where's the best place to brew a potion here?" 

Scorpius thinks. "I'd say in the kitchen, but there's nowhere to light the fire. Dad would kill me if we burned the table... It's raining outside, and I'd rather not sit out there..." He shakes his head. He feels groggy, his brain moving too slowly. He runs a hand over his face and takes a breath to gather himself. "How about the ballroom? It's a tiled floor. We should be able to protect it. And we can open the doors to let the smoke out." He looks at Albus, hoping it sounds like a good idea. 

Albus gets to his feet. "The ballroom then. You'll have to show me where to go. I don't think I've ever been." 

 

The ballroom is dark, apart from the flickering firelight coming from beneath Albus's cauldron, and the two silver pinpricks of wandlight. The doors along the back wall have been thrown open so the smoke can escape, making the room chilly. Gusts of wind send dust swirling across the marble floor. The flames beneath the cauldron gutter, and goosebumps rise on the boys' arms. Scorpius is curled up under a blanket, shivering, and he's huddled close to the fire for warmth. Albus barely notices the cold. He's thinking too hard about what he has to do. 

He can faintly hear the patter of raindrops on the patio outside, above the crackling of his fire and the bubbling of the cauldron. They're bits of background noise that he's half absorbing, while all his real attention is on the potion, and on his notes. 

He came up with this recipe such a long time ago that it feels like another lifetime. It was before this adventure. He was still at school, still going to lessons, spending time with Rose. He hadn't been to the Chamber of Secrets and the Hebrides; he hadn't broken into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Scorpius was sick then but not like he is now. When Albus glances at him, he's lying in a huddle, thin and frail, eyes closed, hugging Bathilda to his chest, and it's difficult to tell if those are shadows on his neck, or if it's the disease, spreading ever closer to the point where it will kill him. 

While the cauldron heats up, Albus arranges everything on the ground. He picks the seven Basilisk Teeth out from the bottom of the bag and starts crushing them into a fine powder, which he collects in a bowl and sets aside for now. Beside the bowl he lays the vial of Phoenix Tears, which sparkle and cast a faint rainbow across the floor in the wandlight, and next to that he puts the bottle of Love Potion, the chipped bit of his dad's old mobile, and the two shards of Scorpius's wand. All he needs now is the memory, but he's not about to push Scorpius for that yet. Not when Scorpius looks so sick and so weak. It can wait for the moment. 

He pulls his recipe from the depths of the backpack and smooths it out on the floor in front of him. The Pygmy Puff, who'd ridden downstairs on his head, comes back from exploring the room so it can investigate the paper. 

"It's for the Healing Potion," Albus explains. "This is the base of the potion that's going to- that's _hopefully_ going to save Scorpius's life." 

The Pygmy Puff gives a soft purr and nuzzles against Albus's knee. Albus sighs in response and ruffles its fur. 

"I know. I know I should be more confident. If anyone can do this it's me, right?" 

"You are very much correct," Scorpius says, opening one eye and giving him a small smile. "There's no one I'd rather have saving my life." 

"It shouldn't take long," Albus tells him. "The base isn't too difficult. It needs to simmer for a bit, but don't go to sleep. I'm going to need you." 

"Just resting my eyes," Scorpius says, rubbing his face and struggling to sit up. "The ingredients look good." 

Albus looks down at them and nods. "I think we've done okay." 

"The pressure's all on me now," Scorpius says, with a tired, wilty sort of grin. "I have to find the perfect memory." 

"It's not all on you." Albus digs into the backpack again and pulls out his potions kit, full of all the ingredients he needs for this. "Imagine if I messed up and burned your potion." 

Scorpius snorts. "You? Burn a potion? I think the last time that happened was back in second year. And I can't blame you for that. It was at least sixty-five percent my fault."

"We didn't burn that potion," Albus says. "We exploded it." 

Scorpius flutters one of his hands in the air, with not nearly as much gusto as usual. "Details. Exploded, burned, is there much difference?" He tucks his hand back under the blanket and pulls it up under his chin.

"Plenty," Albus says, starting to weigh out the first of the ingredients and sprinkle them into the cauldron. "Exploding is a lot more catastrophic."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you didn't explode this one."

"I'll do my best," Albus says, drawing his wand and beginning to stir the potion. 

After that they lapse into silence. Albus focuses on weighing and measuring and stirring and counting. This has to be perfect. He can rely on instinct as much as he likes, but he can't forget precision. Potion making is all about precision. Measured weights, the exact level of heat, inch-perfect stirring. Without precision, flair is useless. 

He takes a sprinkle of Fairy Eggs, and pokes them down under the surface with the tip of his wand. The potion goes a bright silver, and he starts to stir. Eight times, counter-clockwise, paying attention to the colour. The transition to pale peach is sudden and immediate at the end of the eighth stir. Everything to plan so far. 

He exhales a shaky breath and takes a few mint sprigs, which he scatters into the cauldron. The potion begins to smell sweet and fresh, and he hears Scorpius sigh happily. 

"Smells good?" He asks, glancing across at him. 

"Mmm," Scorpius says. "Like Pepper Imps." 

Albus grins. "At least I'm making something you're looking forward to drinking." 

"I really am," Scorpius says. "Looking forward to drinking it." He looks at Albus. "I've never looked forward to anything more. Even if it tasted of fish I'd still be excited." 

"I promise it won't taste of fish," Albus says, tearing up some Knotgrass and adding it to the mix. He stirs six times counter-clockwise, and then that's it. All that's left is for the potion to simmer until it reaches the perfect shade of turquoise. 

He checks through his recipe one last time, then he checks it again. Finally he looks at Scorpius. 

"Ten minutes," he says. "In ten minutes this will be done. And then I'll need your memory." 

Scorpius nods. "I'll work on it." He turns his head to gaze out at the rain-soaked garden, bathed the same steel grey as his eyes by the dawn light and the heavy clouds rolling overhead. "I was wondering if maybe it should be about my mum?"

Albus crosses his legs and watches him. "It could be. You have some really good memories of her." 

Scorpius nods. "I know. I still-" He breaks off and curls in on himself. Albus can see his shoulders tightening in pain, and he immediately uncurls himself and slides across the floor to Scorpius. He wraps his arms round Scorpius and holds onto him. 

"Go on," he murmurs, rubbing a hand against Scorpius's tense back. Normally he'd tell him to stop, but this time? This has to be done. 

Scorpius draws in a shuddering breath and clenches his fingers round Albus's hand. "I still remember when she gave me the sweets. Before I came to school for the first time. She stopped me on the platform and- and sat me down on my trunk, and she knelt in front of me and told me to find a really good friend." He squeezes Albus's hand. "I think it worked." 

Albus kisses him on the cheek. "I wasn't always the best." 

Scorpius twists round and looks up at him. "You had your moments. And I wouldn't have had it any other way." He reaches up and touches Albus's cheek, and Albus closes his eyes. 

"I wish I could have met her," he says quietly. "Your mum."

Scorpius sighs and withdraws his hand. "Me too." Albus feels him twist back round, and settle, a solid, heavy weight against Albus's chest. "She used to come in here and dance," he says, and his voice sounds tight and tense with pain. Albus opens his eyes and grips him tighter. 

"She taught you to dance." 

"She did," Scorpius says, and it sounds as though he's smiling, or giving a shaky little laugh. "We-" He swallows. "We'd come in here. Me and Mum and Dad. And they'd dance. And sometimes they'd dance with me. Mum loved dancing. And music. You know she taught me the piano? A-and..." He takes a shallow, unsteady breath that comes tight in his throat and high in his chest. "And gardening. That was her favourite. One day she... she took me out into the rose garden, and-" He presses a hand to his chest and pauses for a moment, head resting on Albus's shoulder. "And she showed me all the roses, how to take care of them. She showed me the roses she grew for me and Dad. New ones she cultivated. Mine is yellow, and really small and simple, but I've never smelled anything more amazing. Except maybe the Amortentia we had in that potions lesson last year." 

Scorpius trails off, and Albus strokes his hair gently, giving him time. He tries not to notice the greyish-green tinge creeping up the veins in Scorpius's neck, or how shallow his breathing is, or the way his fingernails are digging into Albus's skin, like he's fighting off intense pain. 

"I think I've been lucky," Scorpius says finally, in a very soft, weak voice. "With all the love. I've had my mum. I've had you. You've been great." 

Albus buries his face in Scorpius's hair. "And I will continue to be great," he mumbles. "Until the day you don't want me anymore."

"Do you remember..." Scorpius pats his hand, so weak that the touch barely feels like a breath against Albus's skin. "The first time we cast our Patronuses. Your beautiful doe... You've done so much for me. You saved me so many times. All I had to do was think of you in the other world to find hope. And... and the moment when you appeared out of the lake. Alive and whole and- and _you_." He glances back at Albus and smiles. "All dry humour and Albus-y. I've never been happier. You are my light in the-" He breaks off with a gasp and hunches up, clutching his chest, face contorted with pain. He retches, and Albus holds onto him, brushing his fingers through his hair. 

"I've got you," he says, trying to sound calm and collected and not like he's panicking. "You're okay. It's okay." 

"It's all going cold," Scorpius whimpers, and for the first time he sounds truly afraid. "Albus. I-I feel- I _can't_ feel." 

Albus curls his body round him and rocks him. "Sshh. Save your strength. Rest for a moment." 

"I-I don't think..." He shakes his head and Albus feels his body heave as he lets out a sob. "I don't think I have a moment." He lets go of Albus's hands, which he's been clutching for strength, and instead picks up Bathilda, hugging her tight to his chest and burying his face in her woollen body. "I'm scared. I don't- I don't want to die." 

"No!" Albus says desperately, hugging him tighter than ever. "Scorpius, listen to me. You're not going to die. You're not. I won't let you." He lets go of his hold on Scorpius and moves round in front of him, kneeling there and grasping his shoulders instead. "I need a memory. Please, Scorpius. Help me." 

There are tears on his face now, hot and wet, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. He shakes Scorpius's shoulders, not hard, just wanting to stimulate him into action, to jolt some more life into him. 

Scorpius draws in a gasping, ragged breath and shakes his head. "I can't. It hurts so much. My heart." 

"Yes," Albus says, squeezing his shoulders. "You can. Tell me something. Tell me about the lake. Or the other world. Or the first time we kissed. Or how Rose is your best friend. Come on. I need this. _You_ need this." 

Scorpius shivers and lifts his head to look at Albus. His face is shining with tears, and there's grey creeping up under his jaw now. He looks lost, and Albus strokes both hands down his cheeks, wiping away the tears. 

"We've come so far," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to Scorpius's. "Don't give up on me now. Please. I love you." 

Scorpius meets his eyes, shadowy silver flooded and wet and sparkling, just like the world outside the ballroom doors. Albus hopes that Scorpius can see love and support and belief in his expression, not just panic. He hopes he can help Scorpius take heart. And maybe he does, because Scorpius sits up, head bowed, and stares down at Bathilda, picking at the edge of her wing. A couple of tears splosh down onto her head, and he brushes them away.

"My dad," he says, almost too soft to hear. "My dad got her for me. She was one of the first things he gave me, before- before I knew about everything he did. Before we stopped talking." He brushes the back of his hand across his eyes, and his fingers sink into Bathilda's squishy body as he clutches her. He sniffs and looks up at Albus. "You have to- you have to tell him for me. That I love him. Please." 

Albus shakes his head, but Scorpius reaches out and grips the front of his jacket. 

" _Please_." 

"Tell him yourself," Albus says, wiping his eyes. "Give me the memory and tell him yourself." 

Scorpius releases his jacket and closes his eyes. "I didn't think-" he says, voice unsteady, shaking with tears. "I didn't think we'd ever talk again. After- after Mum died. I thought that was it. And then everything happened, and he hugged me, and things suddenly seemed like they might be okay for the first time ever. And... and the night after we got home, I remember we sat in the kitchen until midnight, and we talked, and he made hot chocolate, Mum's recipe, and I had Bathilda, and we were both in our pyjamas. A-and that was the first time... the first time I knew he really loved me, and that I loved him, and-"

He squeezes his eyes shut and a couple of tears leak out. With a trembling hand he starts patting at his pockets, and Albus doesn't understand what he's doing, until he sees Scorpius's fingers close around his wand, the new one, the one he inherited from his mum. As the tears dribble down his cheeks, and he holds tight to Bathilda, he raises his wand to his temple and presses it against his skin. 

The memory comes free in a long, shimmering, silver strand, trailing from the tip of his wand. He gives a shudder, that seems to come from the very core of him, and he collapses forward. Albus catches him, supporting him, taking hold of his hand to make sure the memory isn't damaged. 

"Scorpius," he says urgently. "Scorpius, stay with me. I've got you." 

But Scorpius just lifts his head, eyes swimming with tears. "Take it." He presses the wand into Albus's hand, then releases his grip. His hand falls to his side like he doesn't have the strength to hold it up anymore. "I-I trust you." 

And then his body slumps completely against Albus's, and the greyish-green disease spreads over his jaw and up across his cheeks, and he's gone.


	18. Kill or Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus brews the potion. Draco waits. Scorpius's heart still beats – barely. This is it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a year and a half in the making. It's so special to me, and I hope it's worth the wait for you.

Scorpius has gone limp and heavy; all his weight resting on Albus. It's almost impossible to support him while safely holding the wand with its fragile trail of memory, and Albus is panicking. He's stuck half shoving Scorpius away, half shaking him to try and revive him. He needs to wake up. He needs to stop being an idiot. He can't be- no, he definitely can't be dead. They have all the ingredients now. They're ready to make the potion now. They've got this far. They have to finish this. Death cannot be an option.

After several exhausting seconds, Albus finally manages to get some leverage with the one hand he has free, and pushes Scorpius off him. He lays him gently down on the floor, covering him up with the blanket, then he kneels beside him and presses his ear to his chest. 

There's a tiny bit of shallow rise and fall, and the soft, steady, relentless thump of his heart. It sounds so much weaker than it should do, but it's hope. Somehow Scorpius is still clinging to life, and as long as he holds on, Albus can save him. 

"Keep going," he murmurs in Scorpius's ear. "I know you can do this. Please, just hold on." Then he rushes to his feet, finally turning his attention to Scorpius's wand and the wafting silver thread of memory. 

He almost falls over his own feet in his hurry to get back to the cauldron. The base Healing Potion looks almost done, or maybe that's just wishful thinking. The colour looks alright at least, and the steam is rising in little puffs like it should be... 

He kneels in front of the cauldron, uncertain and scared. He's always been able to trust his instincts, but can he do that today? What if he's misjudging it because he needs it to be ready? What if he tries to use the potion too early and it's not perfect and the cure fails? They only get one go at this. One go, and time is pressing. If there were ever a moment to take a risk, it's this one. 

The pale, glittering memory casts a silver reflection across the surface of the potion, and Albus stares down at it. Anything he does now could cost him everything. This – all of this, all the work they’ve done – is too precious to waste. It all comes down to this, and while he's normally good under pressure, having Scorpius's life in his hands isn't the sort of pressure he knows how to handle. 

His heart beats fast. Blood rushes in his ears. He draws in a deep breath. His hand shakes as he holds the wand out over the cauldron. Outside the rain is drumming down, bouncing on the patio tiles and the glass roof overhead. In the distance, one of Astoria's clocks begins to chime. Time is ticking by, time they don't have. 

Albus screws up every ounce of courage he has and twitches his hand, so the thin strand of memory detaches from the wand and flutters down, landing on the surface of the potion. For a moment it just lies there. Silver on blue. Then, with a sudden hiss, it dissipates into nothing, and the potion glows bright gold.

Thick bubbles begin to rise through it, popping, and sending wafts of peppermint scent out into the ballroom. Albus's heart clenches as he smells it, and he glances over in Scorpius's direction. 

He's still lying there, very still among the shadows. His face is screwed up like pain is tearing through him even while he’s unconscious, and Albus feels sick. He drags his gaze away from Scorpius and grabs the next ingredient, the closest one to him, the little bowl of crushed Basilisk Teeth. 

He scatters the powder into the cauldron. Just like the memory, it sits on the surface for a moment, before the potion starts to fizz and absorb it, and as it separates out and dissolves, the liquid goes a pale green. 

Albus glances down at the page of instructions he'd got out of the backpack earlier and flattened out on the floor. There's no detail. It doesn't tell him what colour the potion should be. It doesn't tell him how it should sound. It doesn't tell him the consistency. He's working in the dark, and all he can do is grit his teeth, carry on, and hope he doesn't make any mistakes. This is terrifying. 

He bows his head and screws his eyes shut, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. There are still tears on his face, he realises. He's still crying, even though he's been too focused to realise it. He brushes a hand across his cheeks and opens his eyes to continue.

When he does, he finds that the Pygmy Puff has come to sit on the edge of the recipe, like a little fluffy paperweight. Albus had almost forgotten it was here with them. 

"If he survives," he says to it, "if this works, I'll keep you. You'll be our lucky charm, or- or something." He nods and sniffs and wipes the back of his hand across his nose, then turns to the next of the ingredients. 

He hovers his hand over the charred bits of his dad's old wooden mobile, but then decides to go for the Phoenix Tears instead. Although he gets the sense from the recipe that the order he adds the ingredients doesn't really matter as long as they all go in, it still feels right to do this in order of significance. Like somehow if he saves the most important piece for last it'll strengthen the potion. Of course, choosing which items are most significant without Scorpius's help isn't easy, but he hopes he knows him well enough to get it right. 

He uncorks the vial of tears with a pop, and swirls the contents round and round. They're pearlescent, and a lot thicker than normal tears. They cling to the glass and roll slowly down the sides of the bottle. When Albus tips the vial upside down over the cauldron it takes several seconds for everything to leak out, so by the time the last drops hit the surface of the potion, the first tears are already spreading out, marbling the liquid with shimmering white. 

They don't hiss and dissipate the way the other ingredients have, and for a moment Albus is tempted to get his wand out and give the potion a stir. But then, all of a sudden, the surface changes to a soft silver, pearlescent like the tears had been, sparkling with a myriad of greens and pinks and purples where it catches the light. 

Albus exhales with relief and reaches once more for the charred wooden broomstick, this time with far more certainty. He holds the fragile old carving gently in his hands and thinks of his dad, of how the sacrifice that this represents saved his dad's life so many times; saved the whole world. He thinks about how desperate he is to go home and see his dad, and how Scorpius needs to see Draco again too, and how badly Draco must need to see him. 

Albus thinks of the kindness Draco showed him when he spent all those weekends sitting with Scorpius in the hospital. He's such a good dad, just like Albus's granddad must have been a good dad. And Astoria, even though she's gone, she was an amazing mum, and it sounds as though she was as full of love for Scorpius as Albus's grandmother was for Harry. Surely she would have made the same sacrifice as Lily did. In fact, in a way she did. She gave years of her life for Scorpius; Albus knows that sometimes that fact still haunts him. 

He holds the image of Astoria that Scorpius had shown him earlier, the one of her tending her rose garden, in his head as he tilts his hand and lets the bit of wood fall into the cauldron. 

It sits on the surface for a very long time, a lot longer than any of the other ingredients so far. After a heart-stopping second or two, Albus begins to genuinely worry that it won't dissolve, that maybe it's too solid, or that they've misunderstood the instructions and it isn't acceptable. But then he sees a gentle silver smoke come from the wood, and orange flames begin to curl across the surface, and as they do, the wood crumbles into ash and percolates out into the liquid, turning it a deep, inky red. 

He stares down at the potion, which is now bubbling sluggishly, and says a silent prayer to his grandma for her help with making this work. If there were any sacrifice in the world that would help save Scorpius, surely that one was enough? It has to be. It just has to. 

He draws in another slow, steadying breath and turns to the tiny bottle of Love Potion on the floor next to him. He picks it up and swirls the liquid round and round, so it glitters and sparkles as the Pearl Dust catches the light. He thinks about Scorpius saying that everything had hurt less as a Pygmy Puff. He's been through so much awful pain in the last few months. It's unthinkable, and Albus knows how good he is at keeping things to himself. Chances are Albus has no idea of how much he's really been hurting. 

He looks down at the little bottle of Love Potion, so insignificant. But a bottle just like this saved their lives once before. It saved everything. Why shouldn't it do the same now? 

Determined, he uncorks the bottle and tips it all into the cauldron in one go. It forms a rainbow swirl on top of the red, the tiny particles of Pearl Dust still shimmering in a pale, pastel sheen. As it mixes with the rest of the liquid, the whole thing goes a vibrant pink, and Albus doesn't waste a second more time wondering if that's what's meant to have happened. There's only one ingredient left. It's time to finish this.

Clenching his jaw in determination, he picks up the wand shards and holds them across the palms of his hands. He still regrets not being able to better protect Scorpius when they were kidnapped by Delphi. He wasn't strong enough to break his bonds and fight her. And even though he would have gladly given his life to save Scorpius, she would never have hurt him and spared Scorpius. He was too important to her plans. That day Scorpius was the spare. But never again. Never ever again.

Scorpius isn't disposable. Scorpius isn't someone that Albus can lose. He's an essential part of Albus's life and he has been since they met on the train six years ago. Him dying is unacceptable. It was unacceptable then and it's just as unacceptable now. Albus won't be responsible for it happening. 

Without another moment's hesitation, he tilts his hand and tips the two halves of the wand into the potion. 

The first thing that happens is that the unicorn hair dissolves in a flash of white sparks, stray bits of magic dancing across the surface of the potion as all the power that's been pent up for years releases in one final blaze of glory. And then the two pieces of wood are left lying there, mundane, somehow lesser without the powerful core that had held them together for so long. Albus feels almost sad to see them like that. 

He glances at Scorpius, lying very still just a few feet away, and he wonders what he would say if he could see this. Would he be upset? Or just fascinated by the process? Possibly both. Albus will have to describe this to him later in great detail no doubt. 

He stares at Scorpius and imagines him whole and healthy, sitting up in bed and chatting about potions and wands and how excited he is to get back to school. Soon. That will be a reality in just a few more minutes. It's tantalisingly close now. 

As Albus gazes at his unconscious form, there's a bright flash of light in the corner of his eye, and he hears the potion fizz and boil violently. He whips around to see the pieces of wand wood beginning to split and crack. 

The carvings break first, splintering apart where Scorpius has whittled the wood down to its weakest. Bits of bark come tearing away and float alone on the surface of the potion. Albus sees the section with the little carved crown and the A that stood for him begin to burn up and disintegrate into ash. The numbers Scorpius carved to mark the days since his mother's passing glow orange as fire creeps through them. The two halves of the wand seem to be catching fire from the inside out, as the molten liquid runs through them where the unicorn hair once was. 

And then, with a burst of curling yellow flame, the wand shards fall to ashes, and red-hot embers explode upwards from the cauldron, making Albus jump back to avoid being burned. The ensuing conflagration is so bright that Albus has to shield his eyes. Blazing white sparks fly upwards in a fountain, and the steam coming off the potion smells of peppermint, and dusty old books, and the slightly damp smell of the Slytherin common room. Albus inhales involuntarily, closing his eyes, and behind his eyelids the brightness begins to fade. Down from white, through red, to blackness. And when he opens his eyes again he sees that the potion is simmering gently, a soft, burnished gold, still sending out wafts of that wonderful-smelling steam. 

He looks down at the instructions once more. It says to stir the potion then let it keep simmering for five minutes. Albus glances at Scorpius, wondering whether they even have five minutes, but of course he can't rush this. It'll take as long as it takes. 

Steeling himself, he draws his wand and holds it over the cauldron. This is why he's been practicing potion making for years and years. This is why you practice doing anything. So that when you're under pressure and your mind is racing at a thousand miles an hour and you're panicking and afraid and doubting everything, the basics don't desert you, and you can still do what you need to. 

Although Albus's hand is shaking, his technique is perfect as he stirs the potion. Strong and symmetrical, very methodical, keeping up the perfect tempo. He doesn't even really need to think. He's operating on auto-pilot, concentrating on counting the stirs while his hands do whatever it is they need to. 

Three, four, five, six, seven stirs counter-clockwise. Then change direction and go back the other way. Two, three, four, five, six, seven. 

The potion is beginning to darken a bit, and all Albus can do is hope that it's meant to be like that. There are five minutes to wait until it's done. Then he can worry about whether it works or not. 

He waves his wand in a circle and casts a Tempus Charm, so a glittering golden clock appears in the air in front of him, slowly ticking down the seconds until his five minutes are up. 

With that set up there's nothing more to do. He adjusts the temperature of the fire beneath the cauldron, then scoops the Pygmy Puff up onto his shoulder and crawls across the floor to where Scorpius is lying. He sits beside Scorpius and gently lifts his head into his lap, stroking his fingers through the long, soft blond curls. 

"It's nearly done," he says. "It's nearly there now. Just a few more minutes, and then we can make you better." 

He gazes down at Scorpius and sees the pain contorting his face. It's awful but Albus is glad to see some sort of emotion there. It would be so easy to believe he was dead if he looked peaceful. But that pain is solid proof that Scorpius is alive in there somewhere. It's something to hold onto. 

"I don't know any Charms to make the pain stop," Albus tells him, voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I really am." He bows his head and wraps his arms round Scorpius. "You shouldn't have to feel like this."

Scorpius twitches in his arms, body convulsing, expression twisting in agony, and Albus wants nothing more than to calm him down, but there's nothing he can say or do, and he doesn't even know if Scorpius is aware that he's here. All he can do is hold onto him, and stroke his hair, and try to provide some sort of reassurance, in the hope that it's making a difference. 

He glances up at the clock. It's running far too slowly. Only a handful of seconds have passed since he set it running, even though it feels as though it's been an eternity. 

"Hold on," he whispers, leaning down close to Scorpius. "Keep fighting. You're so brave, Scorpius. Do you remember when you were in that other world? That was hell just like this, and you got through it. You told me it was because I was fighting alongside you. And this time I really am." He reaches down and takes hold of one of Scorpius's hands. "I'm here. I'm right here.”

It might be wishful thinking, but he swears he feels Scorpius's fingers tighten, and squeeze his hand in return. Imagined or not, Albus leans down and presses his lips to the back of Scorpius's hand. 

"That's it. I'm here. I've got you." He kisses Scorpius on the cheek. "I love you." He rests his forehead against Scorpius's and closes his eyes for a moment, then he glances back up at the clock. Still not enough time has passed, and greenish-grey shadows are spreading up from Scorpius's cheeks. Soon the poison will reach his mind. Soon it'll be too late. 

Albus takes a deep, shaky breath and looks outside, because it's too hard to look at Scorpius's face right now, between the pain and the encroaching disease. The sun is really beginning to rise now. The sky is starting to go blue, although there are still heavy clouds overhead, lit silver by the dawn. It's no longer raining, Albus realises. There's a freezing mist coating the grounds, but no more rain. Everything is silent and still, and the world smells fresh, like it’s been washed clean.

"Look, Scorpius," he murmurs. "The rain's stopped. I think it's going to be a nice day." He looks down at Scorpius's face, and as he does, as those first rays of sunlight illuminate the curves and contours of the boy he loves with all his heart, Albus crumbles. He bows his head and squeezes his eyes shut, as tears begin to run in rivers down his cheeks. "I need you to be here to see it," he begs, voice breaking. "Please." 

Then he curls up and buries his face in Scorpius's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. It's like the flood gates have opened. All the emotion he's kept under control for months and months finally releasing in one great wash. But there's nothing left to hold on for now. In a minute, literally a minute, the potion will be complete and it'll either work or it won't. He doesn't have to be strong anymore. This is the end. Live or die. And he's so utterly afraid. 

Even facing down Delphi wasn't as terrifying as this. When he did that he was in the heat of the moment. He didn't have time to think. He was running on pure adrenaline. But now, when it's a waiting game and everything is outside of his control... This is too much to cope with. So all he can do is sit here and cry out of fear and frustration. 

He clutches at Scorpius's body, holding on as tight as he can, because it's all he has the power to do. He can hear Scorpius's heart beating, feel his chest rising and falling in shallow little gasps. But for how much longer? 

Albus loses track of the seconds and minutes as he lies there, listening to all the signs that Scorpius is still alive for now, so when the Tempus Charm chimes out the end of his five minutes, he's not ready. 

He sits up and wipes his eyes. He sniffs. He gives Scorpius one last glance, then he crawls across the floor and turns the heat off beneath the cauldron. 

The potion has reduced a lot over the five minutes he's been waiting. Before there was an entire cauldron-full, but now he reckons there might only be enough for one dose, maybe a little bit more. But of course he doesn't even know how much of the potion Scorpius needs to take. Would a mouthful be enough? Or does he have to take all of it? 

His heart is racing. He's panicking again and his hands are trembling. The Pygmy Puff that's still clinging to his shoulder gives a soft purr, and Albus takes the hint. He needs to calm down or he's going to do something stupid like spill this everywhere. 

He turns to his backpack and goes rummaging for a potion bottle, something he can scoop the liquid into, but there's nothing. He smashed everything when he Splinched himself. But it's not a problem. He's in a magical house. Draco must have some potion bottles somewhere. 

He draws his wand and waves it round in a hopeful circle. "Accio potion bottle?" Nothing happens. Of course it doesn't. He doesn't sound nearly confident enough about it. 

He clears his throat and tries again, more confident this time. "Accio potion bottle!" 

There's a long beat of silence, then he hears a whooshing sound just outside the ballroom, and he looks up just in time to see a little glass bottle hurtling towards him. He reaches out and catches it before it can zoom past and smash on one of the columns, then he uncorks the bottle and reaches down to scoop up some of the now burnished bronze potion. 

He uses his wand to siphon it all into the bottle, careful not to waste a single drop. It fills the entire thing, right to the brim, almost spilling over, and Albus has to hold it very steady to keep from splashing it everywhere. 

He straightens up slowly, not taking his eyes off the potion for a second. It's tricky crossing the room with the flask so full, and he has to take it one step at a time, praying that his hands won't shake too much. The Pygmy Puff is sitting very still on his shoulder. He can almost feel it holding its breath so it doesn't knock his arm. 

Every step is heart-stopping. He inches closer and closer to Scorpius, aware of time ticking away. And when he gets there, kneeling down to Scorpius's level is the most terrifying thing yet. 

He holds his hand over the open bottleneck and feels liquid slosh against his skin, but none leaks out. As he reaches his knees he exhales with relief. This is as safe as he's going to get. Now all he has to do is figure out how to get Scorpius to drink it.

He sets the bottle down on the ballroom floor and reaches out to stroke Scorpius's hair. 

"Scorpius," he murmurs. "It's ready... How do I do this?" 

Scorpius gives a soft groan and tilts his head to one side. His face is all screwed up, and Albus takes hold of both his hands and holds on tight. 

"It's time to make you better. I don't know if you can help me... but if you can it'll make this easier." He bends down and kisses Scorpius's forehead. "We can do this together." 

For a moment he pauses there, clutching at Scorpius's hands. Then he sits up and pulls Scorpius's body into his lap, tilting his head up. Holding him there is awkward with one hand, a sort of balancing act to keep him upright and comfortable while also managing to hold the potion. In the end Albus lets Scorpius's head rest on his shoulder while he picks the bottle up. 

He carefully holds the bottle to Scorpius's lips then pauses. How does he do this without drowning him or spilling it everywhere or something? Is there a proper technique for this? It's the sort of thing Scorpius would know, and normally Albus would just ask. Not for the first time he's left wondering why this had to happen to Scorpius. Of all people. It's not fair. 

He's still panicking about what to do with the potion when Scorpius stirs. He barely seems awake. His eyes don't open. But he seems to have sensed the bottle by his lips, because he lifts his head an infinitesimal amount. Albus wastes no time in tilting the bottle for him, allowing a steady stream of potion to trickle into his mouth. 

Scorpius swallows down more than half the potion in one go, before Albus removes the bottle. There's just a small amount left, not nearly enough left for a dose on its own, and he isn't sure whether he should give Scorpius the rest of it now, or save it just in case. He doesn't even know how to tell if it's worked. 

He sets the leftover potion down on the floor and corks the bottle, just in case, then he looks down at Scorpius, searching his face for any signs that something's changed. A hint of less pain maybe, or to see if he's starting to stir... But there's nothing. Scorpius looks exactly the same as before. 

"Scorpius," he says. "Come on." 

He gives him a hopeful little shake and examines his face. Is some of the poison starting to melt away? No, it's just the shadows receding as the sun begins to rise. Scorpius's skin is as awful a colour as it ever was, and his eyes remain closed, his breathing shallow, and his heartbeat weaker than ever. 

"No," Albus says, shaking his head. "No. No! It has to have worked. Come _on_!" He gives Scorpius another shake, but Scorpius's head just flops back onto his shoulder, and Albus stops so he doesn't hurt him. 

A sense of pure dread starts to build up in the pit of Albus's stomach as the realisation dawns on him. It hasn't worked. Their last hope has failed. Something has gone terribly wrong. 

He slips out from beneath Scorpius, laying him on the floor, and scrambles frantically across to the list. Phoenix Tears, willow wood, Basilisk Teeth, the remnants of a sacrifice, the Love Potion, and the memory. That's it. There wasn't anything they missed. Albus knows his base healing potion was perfect, so it wasn't that. And Albus loves Scorpius with all his heart; it isn't possible to love someone any more, so it can't have been that he was the wrong person to drink the potion with either. What can possibly have gone wrong? 

He screws the parchment up in frustration and buries his face in his hands. Tears overwhelm him, hot and stinging with anger and disappointment and guilt. 

He's failed. His one job, to get this potion right, the one thing he should be able to do, and he's ruined it. And now Scorpius is going to die. 

A desperate sob racks his body, and he curls up into a ball on the ground. Scorpius is going to die. He's going to- It's all over. And it's entirely Albus's fault. 

He hugs himself tightly. He wants to go back and hold Scorpius, but he doesn't know if he deserves to. 

"I trust you." 

Scorpius's last words. And what has Albus done with that trust? 

He glances over his shoulder. Scorpius is a blurry shape behind all the tears, but when Albus wipes them away he can see that the poison has spread again, covering more of Scorpius's face, and it's creeping up from the other side too. There surely isn't long left now. Seconds maybe. Minutes at best...

He needs to be with his dad. 

The thought strikes Albus out of the blue.

If he's going to die it should be with his dad. Draco should see him one last time. And then maybe Albus can apologise for putting them all through this hell for nothing. It's what Scorpius would want, to be with his dad in his last moments. And it's what Draco would want too surely? With whatever time is left, this is what Albus has to do. 

He pushes himself off the floor, wiping his eyes furiously on his sleeve, and rushes back to Scorpius's side. He can Apparate to wherever Draco is. It'll take an instant. It'll be easy. And Draco can say goodbye. 

He crouches down on the floor beside Scorpius and hugs him tightly, thinking of wherever Draco would be... 

Where _would_ Draco be? If Albus had to guess he'd say here at the Manor but clearly he isn't here now. What about the Ministry? But not at whatever time in the morning it is. St Mungo's? There's no reason, not if Scorpius isn't there. 

He casts around hopelessly and comes up blank. He doesn't know Draco nearly well enough to know where he'd be at a time like this. He's going to fail Scorpius again because he doesn't have any of the right answers. 

"Where do I go?" He asks the world at large in a broken whisper. "What do I do?" 

And as he buries his face in Scorpius's shoulder and breaks down sobbing uselessly, something begins to warm his heart, and he hears a rushing in his ears like a voice echoing across the distance, murmuring unfamiliar words in an unknown language. He doesn't know where it's coming from. He doesn't know what it means. But in this most dire of moments he knows what he has to do. 

He has to go home. 

On a whim he grabs the bottle of leftover potion, then he clutches at Scorpius's almost lifeless body and Apparates to his parents' house. 

 

Draco sits in the Potters' living room, numb and helpless. James is there too, sitting cross-legend on the sofa and staring blankly at the wall. He looks about as exhausted as Draco feels, and there's still glitter in his hair that he hasn't managed to get out yet. Normally his presence would bother Draco, but not today. Not when he's so out of his mind with worry that he doesn't care who's around as long as Scorpius comes home safe. 

Draco looks down at his hands, running his fingers round the band of his wedding ring. If Astoria were here she'd have some comforting words of advice. She'd know how to handle this. The waiting. The not knowing. She'd be in the kitchen making everyone tea, or she'd stand and rub his shoulders and murmur to him that everything will be okay. Even if she was terrified, she'd barely show it. She was always so matter-of-fact about this sort of thing. Life and death and sickness were her comfort zone in a way. She knew what she was doing with them and she just got on with it.

He raises his eyes to the heavens and sends a prayer in her direction. If she has it in her power to send him guidance and wisdom right now, or if she can do anything to bring Scorpius home, this is the moment she needs to act. He needs her, both he and Scorpius do, now more than ever. It's always been hard since they lost her, just the two of them figuring things out on their own, but now everything is so lonely and uncertain. He misses her so hard it aches. 

_I need our son back_ , he thinks. _I need Scorpius. And when he comes home I'll do better. I'll take better care of him. I can never do as well as you did, but I'll keep him safe. I'll try harder. My hardest has never been hard enough but if I had just one more chance..._

He can only imagine what she'd say to that. He thinks of her sitting beside him, putting an arm round his shoulders and resting her head against his. She'd tell him to stop being stupid, that he's done well enough, that there's nothing more he could have done. She'd tell him he did the right thing, that he's been letting Scorpius grow up and have freedom. Scorpius is an adult now, she'd say. He can face the world and stand on his own two feet. And she'd be right, although every time Draco thinks of Scorpius he can still see him learning to walk and talk and read, can still feel the chalk dust on his fingers from where he’d marked Scorpius’s height on the doorframe to Astoria's office, can still hear Scorpius babbling with excitement on his first day of school, and can still remember the look of pure wonder and joy on his face the day he'd got his O.W.L. results...

Scorpius is still so young. He's still a child. He's done so much but he's barely lived. Draco can still remember being eighteen years old and how much of a mess he'd been in, although Scorpius is far more sensible and a far better person than he ever was. By spreading his wings he can only bring joy and positivity to the world. That's all he's ever done. And Astoria would be right, that Draco has done the right thing in letting him have his freedom, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. That doesn't mean he doesn't wish he'd done more. Done better. Protected his son. 

He gives his head a little shake and looks down again, across at James, who's picking at a hole in the toe of his sock. It's the sort of thing Scorpius would do, until Draco would get too irritated by it and tell him to take it off and throw it away. But now Draco would give anything to have every single one of Scorpius's annoying little habits back in his life. The way he wipes his nose on his sleeve, the way he fiddles with everything. His mess, his noise, his incessant questions. Draco feels bereft of every single one. 

He rises sharply to his feet, and James looks up at him in surprise. Draco doesn't say anything to him, he just starts pacing up and down, glancing out of the window at the brightening yard every now and again, just in case. He can feel James's eyes on him, but ignores his gaze. 

He walks to the mantelpiece and picks up the clock, for something to do. He opens the back of it and inspects the fine gold cogs inside. There's one out of alignment and he nudges it back into place and adjusts the time by his own watch before setting the clock back in its spot between a photo of Albus laughing, and a photo of a very young James holding his baby sister. As he turns away from the mantelpiece to pace across the room again, James clears his throat. 

"Draco? Sir?" 

Draco stops in his tracks and looks at James. James swallows and looks suitably intimidated. 

"I-I just wanted to say... Albus knows. He knows he needs to bring Scorpius back to you, no matter what. He understands that Scorpius is your family." James pauses, thinking, then gives a small shrug. "I think he respects you. And I think he wants you both to be a team. Of everyone in the world, you two love Scorpius most of all. And he knows that. He really does." 

Draco considers him for a long moment, then he gives a curt nod and adjusts his cuffs. "Thank you," he says, unable to keep a twist of sarcasm out of his tone. This isn’t the moment to be lectured about this sort of thing. "For your insight into Albus's psyche." He keeps pacing without another glance at James, but James doesn't give up. He's as tenacious as his father. 

"It's true! All he wants is the best for Scorpius. That's it." 

Draco thinks back to that night when Albus had fallen asleep by Scorpius's hospital bed, in the middle of studying. That constant vigil Albus had kept. How he'd rushed to and from school, bringing books and notes and anecdotes and sweets. How he'd made Scorpius light up when it was difficult for anyone else to get him to smile at all. 

He looks at James and nods. "I assure you, I am very much aware."

"Really?" James asks, seeming eager to keep convincing. 

"Really," Draco says, meeting his eyes, and James sinks back against the couch cushions and runs a hand through his hair. 

"I just wish he'd come home," he sighs. 

"I know," is all Draco can think of to say to that. 

For five more minutes they exist together in complete silence, Draco pacing up and down the room, James chewing his nails and glancing out of the window. Both nervous and tense. Neither talking. Dwelling in mutual anxiety. 

Then, in the distance, there's the sound of the front door opening. 

James bolts to his feet, and he and Draco look at each other. 

"Dad," James says. 

Footsteps come clattering down the stairs overhead, then there's the sound of voices in the hall, Ginny and Harry discussing something. James screws his hands into fists and takes a breath. 

"I'm going to go and ask if the Aurors found anything," he says, and goes marching out of the room. 

Draco keeps pacing up and down, assuming that if there's any news they'll come to him. He doesn't want to get his hopes up. 

He's halfway down the room, walking towards the mantelpiece again, when the living room door opens and he turns to see Harry, Ginny, and James all walk in. Harry is leading the way, still wearing a travelling cloak and cleaning rain speckles off his glasses. Ginny follows, looking worried, and James trails along in the rear, flopping down on the sofa when he reaches it. 

"So?" He asks, stepping toward Harry. "Have you made any progress?" 

Harry sighs and slips his glasses back onto his face. "No," he says. "None." He sits down on the sofa next to James and runs a hand through his hair. "We've had people scouring the entire country. I've talked to everyone I can think of but there's nothing. And the results still haven't come back from the shop." He looks up at Draco, pale and tired. "I'm sorry. We're not giving up. There's just nothing more I can do at the Ministry. And I can't go out and look myself; Albus will run a mile if he sees me." 

Draco shakes his head and sits back down in the armchair, perched on the edge, heart sinking. "I understand," he says, trying to control his disappointment. 

"I'll go back in a few hours," Harry says. "I've told them to send a message if anything happens, but..." 

Draco waves a hand at him to indicate that it's fine, but he can't bring himself to say a word, because it really isn't fine. He rests his forehead on his hand and closes his eyes. 

"Coffee, Harry?" Ginny asks, and the answer must be a no, because the next moment Draco feels a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want anything?" She asks gently, and Draco looks up at her. 

"No," he says. "Thank you. I'm alright."

She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze and looks over at James, who has slumped against Harry's side and seems unaware that there's any question being directed towards him. With a soft sigh, she walks across and sinks onto the arm of the sofa, ruffling her son's hair. Draco looks away from the three of them. 

There's a part of him that feels entirely unwelcome here. Among this family that's entirely whole, entirely intact, that knows they're going to get their son back even if they don't know when. They look so whole, all sat there together, and he feels alone. An intruder. With no family except a son who might already be dead. He wants to get up and go and stand in the yard to wait, because he doesn't belong here. He doesn't belong anywhere, except in his Manor full of painful memories, and with Scorpius. 

Outside the window the rain eases, and the sun rises, sending pale rays scattering across the rolling fields. Draco covers his face with his hand to shield his eyes, and stares blankly at the clock on the mantelpiece, as it ticks away the precious seconds he could be spending with Scorpius. 

He loses track of time. Loses track of everything. He barely knows where he's sitting or who he's sitting with. He hears distant whispering voices, but he doesn't comprehend them. There's nothing. Absolutely nothing. Apart from awful uncertainty and exhaustion and fear. 

A crack outside the window brings him back to his senses, making him jump. He looks up and around at the Potters. Harry is on his feet, frowning. 

"Someone Apparating," he says, looking at Ginny. He draws his wand. 

"Be careful," Ginny says, closing a hand on James's shoulder. 

Harry nods and starts towards the hall, and as he reaches it someone starts hammering on the front door. 

Draco gets to his feet, heart in his mouth. Whatever this is, it's urgent. And urgency might mean... he hardly dares think what it might mean.

Ginny looks across at him and gives a tight, nervous smile, which he doesn't manage to return. James gets up and hovers by his mum's side, trying to peer down the hall after his dad but not seeming to have much luck. 

In this distance they hear another loud bang on the door, and the sound of someone shouting, although it's impossible to hear what they're saying

"I'm coming!" Harry calls back. "Just a moment." 

There's the click of a lock, the creaking of the door opening, and then the high-pitched, hysterical voice starts shouting again. 

"I need Draco!"

"Albus!" Harry gasps in surprise.

"Please, he needs- Dad, no! Draco. Please. Where is he?" 

Draco has never moved faster in his life. He darts down the hall without pausing for another thought, knocking James aside on the way. He doesn't stop to apologise. There's just one thing in his mind. Albus is asking for him. Albus is here. And if Albus is here then so is Scorpius. 

When he reaches the front door he sees Harry crouching in the doorway, reaching out to his son who seems to have collapsed on the doorstep. Albus is holding something – someone – in his arms. Scorpius. Pale and still and sick-looking, with a horrible green-grey tinge to his skin. 

Draco's heart stops and something inside him goes ice cold. 

"Move, Potter," he says, gesturing for Harry to get out of the way. 

Harry glances up at him but doesn't need telling twice. He scrambles aside, and Draco kneels down to Albus and Scorpius's level. Albus stares at him, wild-eyed.

"Draco," he says, and his voice breaks, maybe with relief, maybe with desperation. His face is tear-stained, and he's clutching Scorpius like his life depends on it. He's gripping him so hard that his finger-tips are going white, and he looks a mess. 

"He's alive," Draco says, it's not a question because he won't accept one of the answers. Scorpius has to be alive. 

Albus gives a sort of hiccuping sob and nods.

Draco's heart unclenches a bit and he reaches out. "Albus, let go of him. Give him to me." 

Albus takes a shuddering breath. "He's going to die," he says, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "He's going to- I'm sorry. I tried to save him. I-I tried, but... He's dying." 

Draco shakes his head. "No," he says, with an ice-cold sense of determination. "He's not. Not if I have anything to do with it." He beckons to Albus. "Give him to me, please." 

Albus hesitates, and Draco wonders if he's afraid that if he hands Scorpius over now he might never hold him again while he's alive. It's a fear he can understand perfectly. 

"I can save him," Draco says, meeting Albus's eyes, voice low and as steady as he can make it. There's a bottle in Albus's hand, less than half-full with bronze liquid. He points to it. "Is that the potion?" 

Albus sniffs and nods. "Yes. I-it didn't work. I don't know why. I did everything. The ingredients... we had everything. I-I'm sorry." 

"I know," Draco says, struggling to maintain his calm when inside his heart is racing. The potion is here. Scorpius is here. He can make it okay. He has everything he needs, and he can do this. "Albus, I need Scorpius. I need you to bring the potion, and I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" 

Albus looks down at Scorpius, then back up at Draco. He gives a very small nod and relaxes his grip. 

"Thank you," Draco breathes in pure relief. He reaches out and gathers his son into his arms, then he struggles to his feet, holding Scorpius tight. 

Ginny and James have moved into the living room doorway to watch, but they both step out of the way when Draco turns to them. 

"Bring him in here," Ginny says, voice unsteady, gesturing Draco inside. "Put him on the sofa. He'll be more comfortable." 

Draco can feel how tense Scorpius is in his arms, like he's in intense pain. His face is screwed up, and his hands are folded across his stomach, both balled up tight and shaking. His breathing is so shallow and weak that Draco can barely feel it. He doesn't want to know the state his son's heartbeat is in. It won't be good. And as much as he hates to admit it, he's all too aware that Scorpius is clinging to life by a thread the width of spider silk right now. 

He can remember the day when Astoria was in a condition like this. There was only one day when she was this bad, and that was the day she never saw the end of. And now Scorpius is just as bad, and he might not see the end either, and-

He pauses and exhales, trying to calm himself down, trying not to run away with himself. He glances over his shoulder to see where Albus is, to see the whereabouts of the potion, and he sees Harry and James helping Albus up. James crushes his brother in a tight hug, but Albus pushes him away and walks toward Draco, jaw tight with determination. He's unsteady on his feet, he's a tearstained, snotty mess, but he doesn't look like someone who'll be parted from Scorpius for a second. 

It takes some manoeuvring to get Scorpius through the doorway without hurting him, but once they're in the living room, Draco takes him straight to the sofa and sets him down. Ginny conjures a blanket from nowhere and drapes it over him, tucking the edges beneath his body, then retreating beside Harry and James to give Draco space. 

Draco strokes a hand through Scorpius's ruffled, faintly pink, hair. He vastly prefers the pink to the greenish-grey of Scorpius's skin, like there's some poison creeping inside him. It looks awful. Alarming. And it hasn't escaped his notice that there are only a few inches of skin on his forehead that remain their usual milky-pale colour.

"Albus," Draco says, looking up and beckoning to him. "Bring me the potion." 

Albus comes over and kneels down next to him, uncorking the potion and handing it to him before taking hold of one of Scorpius's hands. 

"I love him," Albus says in a broken little voice. "It should have worked. I-I don't know what went wrong."

"Nothing went wrong," Draco says. "It just needs to be me." He slides an arm round Scorpius's back and lifts him into a sitting position, propping him up against a pillow. "Is there anything I need to do?" He asks, looking at Albus. "Does he just need to drink it?" 

Albus nods forlornly and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "Y-yes," he sniffs. "Yes, but-" He gulps in a breath and shakes his head, seeming to crumble before Draco's eyes. "I-I don't want him to die..." He buries his face in his hands and sits down hard on the floor like he can't hold himself anymore. Ginny comes over to pick him up. She wraps her arms round him and gathers him in, helping him to his feet and holding onto him. This time he doesn't resist. He doesn't seem to have the energy left. He turns and buries his face in his mum's shoulder, and she strokes his hair and murmurs softly to him as she guides him a couple of feet away, leaving Draco alone by the sofa with Scorpius. 

He looks down at his son's contorted, uncomfortable face; the closed eyes and slightly parted lips as he struggles to breathe; the small space of healthy skin that seems to be slowly vanishing. He brushes his fingers along Scorpius's jaw, inspecting him for what might be the last time. Then he picks the potion up, raises it to Scorpius's lips, and starts to trickle it into his mouth. 

He's not sure if Scorpius is swallowing. He's not sure if Scorpius is capable of drinking anything anymore. This might just be doing more harm than good. But this is all there is left to do, and it's the only chance they have. 

A bit of bronze potion dribbles down Scorpius's chin, but most of it stays in his mouth. All Draco can do is hope he's drinking it not drowning in it. It's not at all clear whether this is having any impact at all. Would it be instantaneous if it worked? How does he tell? Will there be some miraculous effect? 

The last of the potion drains out of the bottle and Draco pulls it back from Scorpius's lips and wipes the spillage from his chin. Uncertain, Draco places the bottle on the ground and looks down at his son. It's all down to Scorpius now. 

Draco brushes his fingers through Scorpius's hair, wanting to comfort him and let him know he's here. He remembers when Scorpius was very little and he'd get ill. They would wrap him up in blankets and hug him, and sometimes Astoria would sit and tell him stories or sing to him. He always looked so peaceful, lying there with his eyes closed, letting her stroke his hair while she told him about far off, imaginary lands, or people from the past, or little anecdotes from work. Draco could never tell stories like that, but he's learned over the last few months that he can still offer Scorpius comfort. He may not be Astoria, but he's been good enough. 

He leans in close and kisses Scorpius's forehead. "I'm here," he murmurs. "I won't leave you. I love you." 

Because he's so close, Draco hears Scorpius's last gasp of air. A short, desperate, throaty little breath. He sits back and sees the poison seep into that final bit of skin. He sees Scorpius's face relax. 

His heart constricts, and he shakes his head. "No," he whispers. "No. Scorpius... come on." He cups Scorpius's face in both hands and stares at him, willing him to keep going. "You can't leave," he murmurs, voice hoarse. "You can't. You're not dead. You're not dead!" 

It comes roaring out of him, and he doesn't mean to shout. It's been years since he told Scorpius off. But this is unacceptable. Scorpius can't die. Draco won't let him. It will not happen. 

"You're not dead," he repeats, this time in a broken whisper. And there are tears prickling his eyes. Hot. Stinging. He blinks as fast as he can and looks away from Scorpius for a moment. It's a terrible mistake, because as he does he remembers that Harry and Ginny and Albus and James are all standing there, all watching him, all seeing this display. But he doesn't care. He can't care. His son is-

He chokes and a tear spills down his cheek. He bows his head and squeezes his eyes shut, taking hold of both of Scorpius's hands and holding them tight. Behind him he can hear Albus's noisy sobs, and Ginny murmuring to him. He wishes there were someone to comfort him too, but he's alone. Completely alone. And Scorpius is gone. 

He rests his forehead against Scorpius's hands as tears dribble down his cheeks. The last time he cried like this was the last time he lost someone he loved. But he made sure no one could see him then, and he still had someone to hold on for. He had Scorpius. And now he's never felt more alone in his life. Not on top of the Astronomy Tower, not in the years after the war, not when Astoria died, not even when Scorpius went missing in fourth year. This is true loneliness. 

And then, just as Draco is beginning to contemplate the desolate life he's now faced with, he feels one of Scorpius's fingers twitch beneath his hand. 

He sits up in shock. Scorpius is a blur through the tears, and Draco brushes them away quickly. 

"Scorpius?" He breathes, hardly daring to believe it. 

Scorpius inhales deeply, chest rising, and his eyelids flicker. Draco reaches out a shaking hand and brushes a curl of hair off his son’s forehead. It might be wishful thinking, but it looks like the horrible colour is fading from his face. He still looks pale, but the shadow of the illness is disappearing, and there's a sort of bronze glow running down the veins in his neck, and across his hands and wrists. 

"Scorpius," Draco says again, squeezing his hand tight. "Can you hear me?" 

Scorpius exhales, and this time he opens his eyes. "Dad?" He says in a hoarse whisper, and Draco just stares at him, at all the life that's shining in his gaze, unable to speak or move or do anything but drink in the miracle he's seeing right in front of him. 

Scorpius blinks twice and finally seems to focus. As he looks up at Draco's face a tiny, weak smile flickers across his lips. "Hi, Dad. I missed you." Then he closes his eyes again, still smiling, and he falls asleep. 

His breathing continues, soft and slow but steady; the way someone should breathe when they're sleeping. Draco takes his hand and feels his wrist for a pulse, which is also steady, and as strong as ever. The bronze light in his veins seems to be burning the sickness away, and even as Draco watches, it completes its work and fades away. Scorpius is restored. It's over. 

As that thought hits, he realises he's shaking with relief. He puts both his arms round Scorpius and gathers him up into a tight hug, rocking him and littering his hair with kisses. 

His son is alive. Everything is going to be okay. 

He glances round and sees Albus, standing and staring at Scorpius. He looks completely stunned, mouth open, tears still flowing down his cheeks. Draco lays Scorpius down on the sofa, making sure the blanket is tucked around him, and gets to his feet. He walks across to Albus and looks him in the eye. 

"Thank you," he says softly, and it's all he can think of to say. So instead of trying to find more words he gathers Albus's small, shocked form into a hug. 

Albus doesn't seem to know what to do with himself. He just stands there and accepts it. When Draco releases him he reels back, running a shaking hand through his hair, and Ginny catches him. 

"I think we all need some rest," she says. "Don't you?" She looks round at Harry and James, who are standing together by the door. 

Harry gestures to the two younger boys. "Do they need to go to the hospital? Someone should look at Scorpius. And Albus's shoulder-" 

"No," Draco says, glancing back at Scorpius. He doesn't know how but he’s certain that Scorpius is in no more danger. He should go back to the hospital but not tonight. "The journey could just do him more damage," he says. "I think he should rest here, and I'll take him tomorrow." 

"Albus," Harry says. "I'll just take Albus then." 

"No!" Albus pulls out of his mum's arms and backs away towards the sofa. "I'm not going. I'm not leaving him." 

Harry sighs. "But Albus-" 

"Dad," James murmurs. "He's made it this long. One more night won't kill him."

Albus glares defiantly at his dad, standing right in front of Scorpius, arms folded, jaw tight. 

Harry raises his hands in defeat. "Fine. But you're going tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow," James says, walking across to his brother and taking hold of his arm. "But now he's going to sleep. Aren't you, Albus?” He gives Albus a very significant look, and Albus glances at Scorpius. 

"We can take him upstairs," Ginny says, gesturing to Scorpius. "We should make sure he's comfortable. He can go in Lily's room, or-" 

"Put him in mine," James says. "The bed's bigger. And there's room for people to wait with him. Lily's room is tiny." 

Ginny nods and walks across to Draco. "I can help you with him," she says, and Draco feels so numb with exhaustion and relief that he doesn't have energy to insist on doing it himself. He just follows behind as Ginny conjures a stretcher and carefully levitates Scorpius up to the first floor. 

And there, as the bright rays of morning sunlight spill through James's window, he sits beside his son's sleeping form and tries to absorb the fact that everything really is okay. Scorpius really is safe. And their tiny family is still intact. 

Elsewhere in the house, Albus allows James to find him some pyjamas and guide him to the bathroom. Apparently he still has make up all over his face and looks a mess, not that he cares much. James insists he takes a shower, even though he doesn't really want to. All he wants is to sit and wait for Scorpius to wake up again. Sit and watch him breathe. Sit and check his heart beat every few seconds, to convince himself that he really is alive. 

He's been living with Scorpius's illness for so long that the end of it, Scorpius's survival, Scorpius being okay, doesn't seem real. He's been planning and worrying and working for so long, and now it's over. They've done it. Everything he's done has been worth it, and Draco _thanked_ him. 

The realisation hits him as he's leaving the bathroom, hair still wet from the shower, wearing a spare pair of James’s pyjamas that swamp his body. It suddenly dawns on him that it's really over. Really really. They're free. This shadow hanging over them has gone. He doesn't have to panic every time Scorpius holds his hand or hugs him or tells him he loves him. And best of all, he and Scorpius can finally plan their second date. 

His legs give out under him and he sinks to the ground, burying his face in his hands, and James is the one who's there to hug him, careful of his shoulder, and tell him everything is alright. Albus buries his face in his brother's chest and squeezes his eyes shut. 

"I did it," he whispers. "We did it. We- H-he's alive."

"Yes," James says, crushing him in a tight, joyous hug. "He is."


	19. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius is cured, but there's still plenty of healing to do, and there's so much that needs to be said.

There's sunshine spreading through Scorpius's veins. He feels so warm, so comfortable. He hasn't felt this good in months, not since last summer. There's no pain, no numbness, no sharp, cold poison coursing through him. Just this glorious feeling of sunshine and brightness and contentment. 

He exhales and finds that his lungs work perfectly. He immediately breathes back in, just enjoying the fact that he can, drawing in a great lungful of air. Unable to restrain a smile, he gives a contented sigh and opens his eyes. 

He finds that he's staring up at a red and gold Gryffindor banner that's been draped from the ceiling overhead and tacked to the wall behind him. He's definitely not in hospital then, and he's not at home either. The only people he knows who are Gryffindors are the Potters and the Granger-Weasleys, but he has no recollection of how he would have got to either house. 

The ceiling beyond the banner is a clean white, with nothing else to mark who it might belong to. It's difficult to see anything else in detail because the whole room is full of shadows. He can see that the curtains have been drawn, and although there are still wintry rays creeping through, they're not enough to see much by. 

He lifts a hand to rub his eyes, and discovers that his arms feel very heavy and weak still. The second he moves he feels exhausted, so he stops doing that and just smooths his hands over the bed clothes instead. He can deal with the bit of sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes. He's going to have to. Since he can't move much he tilts his head to the side to see if he's alone, and to work out where he is. 

The first person he sees is Albus. He's curled up in a chair a little bit away from the bed, and he looks to be fast asleep, the Pygmy Puff that had followed them from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes also asleep on his lap. There's a blanket wrapped round him, and he has the hood up on the jumper he's wearing. Nothing but a little tuft of hair is sticking out from underneath, and Scorpius grins. He looks adorable. He always looks adorable. When he's sleeping he usually looks so peaceful, but today the awkward angle of his head where it's nodding against his chest is making his expression all grumpy and scrunched up. Scorpius has the urge to get up and kiss him awake and tell him how cute he looks, but if he couldn't even raise his arm then the distance between the bed and Albus's chair is unassailable. 

He sighs and keeps looking around, rolling his head to the other side. The second person he spots, the only other person who seems to be in the room right now, is Ginny. Not who he'd have expected at all. Maybe he _is_ in the Potters' house... She's sitting in an armchair, reading a book by wandlight, and she definitely isn't asleep. 

Scorpius clears his throat cautiously, unsure if he can still speak or not. "Mrs Potter?" His voice comes out a little hoarse, but stronger than he'd expected. 

She jumps in surprise. Apparently she wasn't expecting him to be awake. She almost drops the book, losing her page as she fumbles with it and throws it onto the chair behind her. She rushes to her feet, and hurries across to the bed. 

"You're awake!" She says. "We were expecting you to be asleep for hours yet. If we'd known-" She gestures towards the door. "Harry persuaded your father to go downstairs and get some food. He should be back in a minute." She hovers a hand over Scorpius's head, like she wants to stroke his hair but isn't sure if she's allowed, and the look of concern on her face is so intense that he briefly worries if he should be more concerned about his own condition. "How do you feel?" 

Scorpius thinks. He wiggles his fingers and his toes. His toes seem a lot more sluggish, like they're taking a lot of convincing, but they do work. He's definitely not in any pain. His chest feels clear and relaxed. He just feels good all over. Tired and slow and heavy, but honestly so wonderful that he feels like he might cry with relief. 

He looks up at her and grins. "I feel... phenomenal." 

Her concerned expression melts into a warm smile, and now she brushes her fingers through his hair like she can no longer help herself. "That's very good news." 

"It is," he says, nodding enthusiastically. His head swims when he does that, so he stops and closes his eyes. 

The bed sinks next to him, and he peeks out to see that Ginny's perched beside him. 

"Your dad wanted you to go to hospital once you were awake," she tells him. 

"Oh," Scorpius says, a tiny hint of worry beginning to niggle at him. "Am I not cured properly? I'm quite comfortable here..." 

"No," she says, shaking her head. "As far as we know the potion worked. I think he just wants you checked over. He wants you somewhere safe while you recover." 

Scorpius thinks about the idea of going back to hospital, and somehow it doesn't feel so bad anymore. The knowledge that he'll be able to leave again relatively soon is a big positive. And he has to admit that the thought of just being able to lie in bed and sleep for hours on end is appealing, although he hopes the food has improved considerably since last time he was there.

He glances in Albus's direction. "Has he already been?" He asks. "For his shoulder?" 

Ginny smiles and shakes her head. "He refused to leave your side. The plan was to take you both together. Sooner rather than later if possible." 

So they would both be in the same building. Maybe even on the same floor. They could visit each other. "Okay!" Scorpius chirps, with far more energy than he feels. 

Ginny takes a breath, and he turns away from Albus and looks at her expectantly. 

"Do you remember anything that happened?" She asks. 

"No, not much. Just waking up and seeing Dad,” Scorpius says, his enthusiasm fading. He feels curious about it, but he's not too keen to hear about whatever Albus went through to get him here. And the image of his dad's face, stained with tears, doesn’t make him any more excited. His dad never cries. There can't be anything good that happened while he was unconscious. 

"Albus," she says. "He tried to heal you, with the potion. He made it perfectly.” she glances in his direction, a soft, proud expression on her face. "But it didn't work. So he brought you here to us, because he thought you should be with your dad. And when your dad gave you the potion it _did_ work. It seemed for a second like it might not, but we got there in the end." She gives Scorpius a gentle smile. "And now you're better. Because those two-" she gestures to Albus, and out of the door towards where Draco must be "-love you." 

Scorpius looks across at Albus and wonders, a little thought niggling in his brain. He knows he's supposed to be healed but he hasn't tested it yet. He hasn't pushed the boundaries. And he knows what he desperately wants to tell Ginny now, and he knows that it would be pushing the boundaries. It would be the perfect test. And he wants to be sure.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he turns to Albus's mum and takes a breath. "Ginny- Um, Mrs Potter...” he says. "I'm in love with your son." 

Ginny's expression splits into a small, sparkling smile and she nods. "I know." 

But Scorpius almost doesn't care about her reaction. He's glad that she knows, that she doesn't have a problem with it, but right now he has other even bigger priorities. What he cares about is his heart. Because instead of aching and constricting and sending pain tearing through his body, it sings and soars and keeps beating just the way it should, full of love and free of agony. And even though he's completely exhausted, even though there's not an ounce of energy left in him, he gives a delighted little wiggle and beams. 

He's completely cured.

 

Scorpius tries with everything he's got to stay awake until his dad comes back, but he can't do it. He chats to Ginny a bit longer, but eventually starts yawning, and without even realising it's happening, he drifts asleep with his face turned toward Albus.  He sinks into a deep, dreamless, refreshing sleep. It's so much easier to rest now he isn't in constant pain, and now he can actually breathe. It also helps not having to worry about being found, and having a comfortable bed in a warm house. He hasn't slept this well in a very long time. 

When he wakes again he drifts lazily towards consciousness, becoming aware of the softness of the bed, and the heaviness of his limbs. Then he recognises whispering voices. Ginny again, and that's his dad! 

He sits bolt upright, so desperate to see his dad that he doesn’t take a second to think. Immediately he regrets it. The whole world starts spinning and he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling more than a little bit sick. A pair of strong, solid arms wrap round him, holding him steady, and lowering him back against the pillows. 

"Are you alright?" His dad asks. 

Scorpius nods and draws in a deep breath. "Sorry. Sat up too fast." He opens his eyes and looks at the amazing sight of his dad's face, currently creased with worry, but so familiar, so welcome. He feels like he's finally home. 

Relief washes through him. He hadn't realised how much he's missed his dad, but now it comes crashing down on him. He's been so tired and so sick and he's had to cope on his own, but now his dad is here to take care of him. He's not on his own anymore. And he hasn't broken his dad's heart. 

The tears seem to come from nowhere. He's not expecting them. Suddenly they're just there, flooding his vision and pouring down his cheeks. He closes his eyes and tries to wipe them away before his dad sees, but he's not fast enough.

"What's wrong?" His dad asks, voice urgent and concerned. "Does something hurt? Scorpius, are you still in pain?" 

Scorpius shakes his head and wipes his eyes on the back of his trembling hand. "No. I-I'm okay." He looks up at the blurry shape of his dad and sniffs. "I just missed you. I-I love you, Dad." He buries his face in his hands, whole body shaking as he sobs. Then he feels the bed sink, and his dad's arms go round him again, this time drawing him in as close as they can, and wrapping him up in a warm, comforting hug. 

"I missed you too," his dad says, and his voice breaks. Scorpius feels his dad's fingers stroking his hair, and he buries his face in his dad's chest and clings to him as hard as he can. He can feel hot tears plopping down on his head, and he knows his dad is crying too. But that's not bad. At least they're crying together, because they're glad to be reunited. Scorpius isn't sure whether he's ever been more glad of anything before in his life. 

For a long time they keep holding on to each other. Scorpius doesn't think he ever wants to let go. He could just stay here, being hugged by his dad, safe and warm, for the rest of his life. This would be enough, after everything. But eventually his tears dry up, and his head starts to ache from crying so hard, and he releases his grip so he can sink back onto his pillows. His dad lets him lie down, but stays perched beside him on the bed, hands clenched in his lap. 

They're alone now, Scorpius realises. Ginny must have slipped away at some point. And when he looks around he sees that Albus is no longer in his chair, although the blanket is draped haphazardly over it, like he's only left temporarily, and the Pygmy Puff is still curled up there. 

"Where's Albus?" He asks. 

Draco glances at the chair. "I think he went to talk to his father. They didn't want to disturb you." 

Scorpius sighs. "At this rate I'll never manage to talk to him..." 

"I can go and tell him you're awake?" His dad offers. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. No. I wanted to see you too. I don't think I can handle both of you at once. I don't even know if you can handle each other..." It suddenly occurs to him that he has no idea if his dad is angry at Albus or not. What if they hate each other now? What if his dad blames Albus for taking him away or something? 

His dad seems to realise what he's thinking, because he looks at him intently. "Albus created the potion that saved your life. He brought you here to me at the right moment... Running off with you may not have been advisable, and I wish he'd asked for help earlier, but I can't blame him entirely for that. I'm sure you had a hand in it too. And it all ended up..." He gives a very small smile. "I think it ended up quite well, don't you?" 

"I wanted to go," Scorpius says. "We decided to do it together, me and him. There wasn't another option." He looks at his dad. "I don't know how much you know, about the disease, and the potion, and everything..." 

His dad's expression turns grave. "I know enough."

Scorpius nods. "Then you understand that this was the only option. And there wasn't time to wait for everyone to discuss it. I would have died. I think..." He twists his hands together on top of the blankets and looks down at them. "I think I nearly did." 

"I'm not upset with either of you," Draco says. "Given the circumstances."

"Are you really not mad? Not even at Albus?" Scorpius stares at him, a little incredulous.

"He's Harry Potter's son," Draco says with a wave of his hand. "He can't help it." 

Scorpius grins, and he meets his dad's eyes, the two of them exchanging a mischievous, glinting smile. 

"You know," Scorpius says. "Aside from the fact that I'm alive, I'm really glad I went on the adventure. We visited all sorts of really cool places. We saw dragons, Dad! Baby dragons. And we met Fawkes, you know Dumbledore's Phoenix?"

"Is this what you wrote about in all those letters?" Draco asks, and Scorpius frowns. 

"How do you know about the letters? I'm alive. You were only supposed to hear about those if-"

Draco nods and looks down at his hands. "I know. Your friend Rose thought the worst had happened. A misunderstanding." 

Scorpius stares at him in horror. "And did you believe her? Did you read them?" 

His dad looks sharply up at him. "No. No I didn't. Believe her or read them. I didn't want it to be true, and I didn't want to read the letters until I knew for sure." 

Scorpius relaxes. "Okay," he says. "Good. I wanted to tell you those stories myself." 

"No doubt you'll talk my ear off for hours about them." An amused little smile twists across Draco's lips. "I'm looking forward to it." 

Scorpius grins. "My favourite part was being turned into a Pygmy Puff," he says. "That was fun. I never realised how fluffy they are." 

"A Pygmy Puff..." his dad says sceptically. 

Scorpius nods. "A pink one. Albus was purple. It was one of the traps in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Draco eyes him. "Is that why your hair is pink? Weasley's shoddy Transfiguration work?" 

Scorpius gasps in sheer delight, and tugs on a strand of his hair, trying to examine it. "My hair is pink?" It still looks its usual pale blond colour to him, but there might be a slight tinge... it's difficult to tell. 

His dad smiles. "Just a little bit. I didn't know pink hair was something you wanted." 

Scorpius shrugs, now picking at a different strand to try and see if it's any more pink than the other bit. "It's not really. But it is a bit different. Pink suits me." 

"You need to get your hair cut," Draco says, reaching out and brushing one of Scorpius's long curls behind his ear. "It'll be as long as mine soon." 

Scorpius pulls a face. "It's not nearly that bad. Look." He tries to pull it back into a ponytail and is left with just a few curly tufts sticking out the back of his head. "Yours is worse. I'll never have hair like yours." 

Draco smirks. "That was what I used to say to my father." 

Scorpius shudders and flops dramatically back against his pillows. "I wouldn't be seen dead with hair like grandfather's." 

His dad laughs. "I'm glad I've raised you with so much sense." 

"I think I got that from Mum, actually." 

"Touché," Draco says with a smile. 

Scorpius smiles too, but then he looks down at the blankets and his smile fades as a thought occurs to him, a sad thought that bubbles up inside him and makes his heart ache. He picks at a crease in the red and gold material of James's Gryffindor bedspread and bites his lip. His dad's eyes are on him, he can feel them, and he knows that his dad knows something is bothering him. 

"Dad," he murmurs, without looking up. "I wish..." He swallows. "I wish Mum could have felt like this. You know. Better. I-I wish she could have felt like...” It's impossible to put into words how he feels, so he just shakes his head. "Like I feel now." He glances up at his dad. "It's really good." 

And then there are tears in his eyes again. Because he misses her. Because what if there was some secret unknown way of curing what was wrong with her but they never found the right place to look? Because she'll never get to feel the relief and happiness of being cured, of having all the pain melt away as quickly as it came, of getting to have a life after the illness.

He sniffs and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his pyjamas. "I'm sorry." 

"No," his dad says, and his eyes are ablaze all of a sudden, like clear, bright, silvery winter sunshine. "Don't you dare apologise." He pauses and thinks very hard for a minute, fists clenched, something in his face twitching as he searches for exactly the right words. Scorpius doesn't try to say anything else. He doesn't think he can. He just keeps wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

Finally his dad twists to face him. "We searched for years to find a way to cure your mother. We looked everywhere. But there was nothing. And she always knew she was going to die young. She was... at peace with the idea. I think your circumstances are entirely different, and I will not let you feel guilty for surviving. Do you understand me?"

Scorpius gives a quiet sniff and nods. "Yes, sir." He doesn't know why it comes out so formally. There's just something sharp and authoritative in his dad's voice. It reminds him a little of the intimidating authority of that Draco he'd met in the other world.

Draco blinks at him, apparently taken aback by the words, but then he gives a small nod and sits back. "Good." There's a brief moment of silence in which Scorpius inspects the tear sodden cuff of his pyjama top, then he senses his dad's eyes on him again and looks up. 

This time when Draco speaks his voice is lower, and very serious. "I wish every day that we could have saved her, and I am very _very_ glad that I still have you. Losing you both would have been..." He trails off, but leans forward once more and points across at Scorpius. "Your mother would have wanted to see you this way. She would have been overjoyed. All she ever wanted was your happiness."

Scorpius stares at him, tears still blurring his vision. "Do you- d'you think?"

Draco shakes his head. "No. I know it... She loved you, Scorpius. She would-" He pauses and runs his fingers round the outside of his wedding ring. "She would sometimes talk about all the things she could imagine you doing with your life, and how sad she was to be missing them, but I know that she wanted you to have every opportunity and lead a good, long, healthy life. She would have wanted this for you. She would have wanted you to get better, and have the chance to fulfil your potential. So I want you to never apologise, and never feel guilty, for being alive."

"Okay," Scorpius whispers. He twists his fingers together on top of his blankets and closes his eyes. He feels overwhelmed and exhausted. He isn't sure if he wants to lie here and keep crying, or if he wants to curl up and sleep for as long as he can. Whatever he does, he knows it's not going to be easy to stop being sorry. The idea of his mum existing, happy and healthy and with a future, is too compelling not to feel sad for its loss. And right now he wishes desperately that she were here to give him a hug. He hasn't wanted it more in years. 

He feels the touch of a hand on his arm, and he opens his eyes to see his dad frowning down at him.

"Are you alright?" 

Scorpius sniffs and shakes his head, and his dad suddenly looks deeply sad. He bows his head, and the blazing light in his eyes turning to shadow. 

"I'm sorry, Scorpius." 

There's something in his tone that makes Scorpius sure that he's apologising for so many things. Not protecting him well enough, not saving Astoria, not being able to replace her. And now Scorpius perfectly understands why his dad wouldn't let him apologise for anything, because of course there's nothing to be sorry for. It‘s not his fault. If Scorpius could choose, of course he'd rather have both his parents, but he loves his dad with everything in his heart and soul, and he doesn't know where he would be without him.

"Dad..." he murmurs. "You know the potion? The one that healed me." 

His dad nods and looks up. "Of course," he says. 

"Well... one of the ingredients I had to put in was a memory. A good memory, of love... And I, um- I used one with us."

"Did you?" His dad asks, in a tight, restrained voice.

Scorpius nods. "After we got back from Godric's Hollow. When we sat and talked about everything, and we had hot chocolate. That was when I knew you loved me. I haven't forgotten. It's one of my favourite memories..." He looks down at his hands because he doesn't think he can handle seeing his dad's reaction, so all he hears is a quiet, shaky breath.

"Yes," his dad says. "I remember it too." And then Scorpius finds himself swept up in another very tight, very warm hug, the sort he wishes would go on forever. He closes his eyes and holds onto his dad as tight as he can, determined to express as much love and appreciation as he can without saying a word. 

When they finally part, he lies on his side facing his dad, refusing to let go of his hand, and closes his eyes. He wants to stay awake, wants to keep talking about the potion, wants to wait for Albus to come back, but he can't manage to stay conscious any longer. The last thing he does before he falls asleep is grip his dad's hand as tight as he can.

"I thought I was supposed to go to hospital..." he murmurs, barely able to summon the energy to make a sound. 

"Next time you wake up," his dad says, and Scorpius feels fingers stroking his hair 

"Okay," he whispers, aware as he drifts away that he might not see Albus at all for days if they both end up in hospital, but too tired and weak to try and do anything about it. 

 

Scorpius doesn't see Albus before he's taken to St Mungo's, but the trip takes so much out of him that he almost can't find it within himself to care. It's the first time he's tried to get out of bed since he took the potion, and although he protests that he's fine, he can't escape the fact that his legs give out after just a couple of steps up to the ward, and he has to be carried the rest of the way. It's humiliating and he hates it, but the second he's in bed he rolls over and goes back to sleep again while a team of Healers examine him. 

For a couple of days he drifts in and out of sleep, but no one seems too concerned about that. During one of his stretches of wakefulness he's told he should be resting while his body recovers, and since he doesn't have much energy to resist, that's exactly what he does. 

Over the next two days he stays awake for longer and longer each time, until on the second evening he manages to sit up long enough to eat dinner. The more he's awake though, the more he becomes aware of Albus's absence. He hasn't seen him at all since the first time he woke up to find Albus sleeping beside him. 

When he asks, his dad tells him that Albus is probably the worse off of the two of them at the moment. He's somewhere having his shoulder repaired, and the grimace as he says it suggests that it isn't a pain-free process. So Scorpius sets about worrying, because there's nothing else to do cooped up in his room, besides sleeping and eating. 

On the third day of his stay in hospital he gets a welcome distraction in the form of his first proper visitor (he's decided his dad doesn't count, as he's a permanent fixture of the room). 

Rose comes rushing in, robes flying, hair a mess, still carrying her book bag from school, soot smeared on one cheek. She lets out a shriek when she sees Scorpius and comes running at him so fast he barely has time to brace himself before she hugs him ferociously. 

"Scorpius!" 

He grins and squeezes her in return. "Hi, Rose. What are you doing here?" 

She steps back and perches on the edge of the bed. "Visiting you, of course." She dumps her bag on the bed and rummages through it, pulling out two books and a packet of sweets, all of which she hands to Scorpius. "Sustenance," she says, looking very pleased with herself. "Mental and physical." 

Scorpius picks up the first book and flicks the pages against his fingers, then he lifts it to his nose and breathes in the musty old book smell. It's almost too good to believe. That smell is one of the best things about being alive. 

When he's done inhaling he looks down at the cover and grins. She's brought him his copy of _A History of Magic_ , and he's never been happier to see it in his life. He's missed it terribly. He hugs it tight to his chest while he picks up the other book.

This one he's only seen once before in his life, in Hermione's library when they broke into the Ministry. _The Imperius Curse and How to Abuse It_. Wide-eyed he stares at Rose who is still looking very smug. 

"Did you steal this from your mum?" 

Her smirk grows ever wider. "I may have done." 

"Rose! Aren't we all in enough trouble?" 

She shrugs. "She won't miss it. She's got so many books. And besides, I can just tell her it's to help you catch up with Defence Against the Dark Arts class. We're studying Unforgiveables at the moment. We've read some extracts from this. Some of the safer bits. So I can just tell her we wanted to get some context." Her smug smile fades a bit and she looks cautiously at him. "Is it okay?" 

Scorpius looks down at the book in his hands and nods. "Yeah. Yeah! It's perfect." He sets the books aside and picks up the packet of sweets instead, turning it round so she can see. "And you got me Jelly Slugs." 

She smiles. "I did!" 

He shakes his head and grins down at his gifts. "Thank you." 

"I missed you, Scorpion King." She reaches across and hugs him again, wrapping both arms round his shoulders, and he falls comfortably against her side. 

For a moment they sit there in silence, then he glances up at her. "I don't suppose you've visited Albus yet?" 

She pulls back a bit and looks down at him. "I went to see him before I came to you." 

Scorpius sits up very fast. "How is he? Is he okay? Is he alive? Do you know when he's coming to visit me? Does he miss me?" 

Rose holds her hands up to slow him down. "Okay! I can only answer one question at a time." 

Scorpius takes a breath. "Sorry. How is he?" 

"He's alright," she says. "Whatever they're doing to fix his shoulder is hurting him, but he'll live. He's hoping they'll let him out soon. And as for whether he misses you." She grins. "What do you think, Scorpius?" 

Scorpius frowns. "He does? Hopefully?" 

"I think he's ready to duel everyone in this hospital including his parents if that's what he has to do to be allowed to see you. Even one handed he'd probably win." 

"So that's a yes?" Scorpius guesses. 

Rose nods. "Apparently he hasn't talked to you since-" 

"Since I passed out," Scorpius says softly. "We haven't talked about any of it. I just gave him my memory, and next thing I knew I was awake, and he was sleeping next to me, and after that I haven't even seen him." He looks down at his hands. "We have a lot to talk about." 

Rose shifts on the bed, so she's sitting down by his knees, cross-legged. "You two will be fine. Whatever you have to say to one another... You know how to talk."

Scorpius sighs. "I know. I just wish we could be doing it already. I miss him too... He saved my life and I haven't even managed to say thank you yet." 

Rose reaches out and pats his knee gently. "He'll be here soon. The second they let him." 

Scorpius nods and picks at his blankets. Then he takes a breath and lifts his head, pushing a smile onto his face. "Anyway. Enough about him. You're the one who's here now, and I've missed you too." 

Rose gives him a small smile in return. "I know," she says. "I missed you as well, and I'm glad- I'm glad you're alive and well, and-" She swallows. "There was a moment when I thought you might be-" She looks down at her hands and inhales sharply. "Scorpius, I need to say sorry to you." 

Scorpius frowns at her. "Do you?" 

She nods and sits up very straight, looking him right in the eye. "Yes, I do. I sent your dad those letters. You told me they were for if the worst happened, because you wanted to tell him everything yourself, but I still panicked and sent them." She lifts her chin. "I suppose I gave up on you, which was stupid. If I've learned anything from all this it's to never give up on Scorpius Malfoy. You're unstoppable." 

"My dad didn't read those letters," Scorpius says. "He got them but he didn't read them. In fact..." He gestures to her. "Without those letters, without you, he wouldn't have been at Harry and Ginny's house when I got there. So, _technically_ you helped save my life." 

Rose considers that for a minute, then a pleased little smile crosses her lips. "I suppose I did, didn't I." 

Scorpius grins. "Yes, Rose. You did. So you can stop apologising." He leans across to his bedside table and picks up the open box of Bertie Bott’s Beans that's sitting there. He holds it out to her and gives the box a shake. "Have a bean."

"I've just had dinner, thanks." She folds her arms and eyes the box. "Anyway, those can't be good for you. You should be eating healthy food so you get better!" 

Scorpius picks a green bean out of the box, hoping it's apple flavoured, and pops it in his mouth, shooting Rose a defiant look as he does. A second later he chokes and spits the bean back out again. "Wasabi," he coughs, throwing the half-chewed bean in the bin and diving for a glass of water. 

"I told you," Rose says loftily.

Scorpius takes a long drink then sets the glass back down on the side and flops against his pillows. "There's not enough jeopardy in my life without Albus around. The beans are the best I can do." 

Rose shakes her head. "You two are ridiculous." 

"He's the ridiculous one," Scorpius says, leaning over so his head's on her shoulder. "And I just happen to be in love with that ridiculousness. My life wouldn't be nearly so interesting without him." 

Rose puts her arm round his shoulder and hugs him tight. "You know, it's nice to hear you finally say that. That you love him. After all those years denying it, and then you being sick..." She ruffles his hair. "I'm happy for you."

Scorpius smiles and closes his eyes. "I'm happy for me too. I can't wait for the chance to finally say it to his face." 

"Well," Rose says, withdrawing her arm. "You'll excuse me if I'm not here for that joyous and probably squelchy reunion." 

Scorpius opens one eye and looks at her. "What do you think I'm going to do to him?" 

"That," she says, "is precisely what I don't want to know." 

He grins. "Well I'd rather not have you around for it either, so that arrangement will work perfectly for both of us." 

"Good," she says. "Glad we've got that sorted out." 

Scorpius exhales and relaxes against her side, letting his eyes drift closed again. He doesn't feel utterly exhausted anymore, he doesn't even feel sleepy, he just feels comfortable. It's nice to have life just a little bit back to normal. He has his friend back. He has books to read. He can start looking forward to going back to school, back to Head Boy duties, back to homework and Quidditch and everything. 

"Are you okay?" Rose whispers, giving him a gentle nudge in the ribs. 

Scorpius nods. "Very... Just imagining how wonderful it'll be to have homework again." 

"You're weird, Malfoy. This N.E.W.T. homework is like hell. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"If I had to pick a sort of hell," Scorpius says, opening his eyes and looking up at the shadowy ceiling above him. "I think I'd take the homework any day." 

"Of course," Rose murmurs. She looks across at him. "I still am sorry," she says. "For giving up on you. You were always going to survive. It's what you do. Get thrown into hell and come storming back stronger. I don't think I'll underestimate you again... Which means I'm probably going to have to start working even harder or you'll beat me in all our exams." She pokes him in the arm, and he grins and turns his head to look at her. 

"And the Quidditch final. I'll beat you in all our exams _and_ the Quidditch final."

She snorts. "In your dreams, Malfoy." 

He shrugs. "You're the one who said you weren't going to underestimate me." 

She sits up straight and looks down at him. "There's underestimation and then there's wasting time worrying about things that will never happen in a million years." 

He shakes his head and grins. "We'll see." 

 

It's too quiet when Rose leaves that night. Scorpius is left alone in the room, just him and his dad, and he misses having someone to chat to. He misses Albus most of all. He curls up on his side with _A History of Magic_ open on his pillows and tries to read, but it's impossible. He can't concentrate on the words. His thoughts are too loud to let him read, and in the end he tosses the book down the bed and rolls onto his back with a growl, dragging Bathilda against his chest and hugging her tight – he will always be grateful to his dad for going to pick her up from the Manor for him. 

Draco glances at him. "Are you okay?" He asks, eyeing the book by Scorpius's feet. 

Scorpius kicks the book up in the air, so it rolls off his toes and lands splayed open, with the pages all bent. Immediately he feels terrible and leans down to pick it up, stroking the pages back into place as tenderly as he can. "I'm fine," he says.

Draco arches an eyebrow. "You just kicked a book." 

Scorpius sighs and puts it down on the bed next to him, giving the cover an apologetic pat. "I didn't mean to." 

Draco sets his magazine aside. "What's wrong?" 

Scorpius picks Bathilda up again and hugs her to his chest. "It sounds idiotic..." 

"You're sick," his dad says. "You're allowed to have idiotic feelings." 

Scorpius rests his chin on Bathilda's head and stares down at his feet, two little lumps under the grey blanket. He swallows but doesn't say anything. 

His dad surveys him. "Is this about Albus?" 

"How did you know that?" Scorpius asks, looking up at him. 

Draco sighs. "I'm your father. I know everything." 

Scorpius rolls onto his side and looks at his dad. "I miss him," he says. "There are a lot of things I want to say to him, that I've been wanting to say, and the longer it takes to get the chance..."

"You're brave enough." 

"I know." He looks down at his hands. "It makes me nervous though. It's too important to mess up. He saved my life." 

"He won't mind," Draco says. "There was a long time when I couldn't manage to string a sentence together in front of your mother, and she didn't mock me too much." 

Scorpius smiles. "But she did still make fun of you a bit?" 

"I'm sure I deserved it." He straightens his cuffs out, then leans toward Scorpius. "I don't think you need to worry about Albus. I think you'll be fine." 

"I'm going to tell him that I love him," Scorpius says. "Properly. Without the sickness getting in the way." 

"I still think you have very little to worry about," his dad says, with a small smile. 

"Thanks," Scorpius murmurs, picking at one of Bathilda's wings. "I just wish I knew when I'm going to see him." 

Draco sits back in his seat. "If it helps, Potter came by earlier while you were asleep. Albus should be coming to visit tomorrow." 

Scorpius flails his hands in the air so hard that when he accidentally lets go of Bathilda she goes flying over the end of the bed. "He's coming tomorrow? Why didn't you tell me!" 

Draco gets up and walks round to retrieve Bathilda, brushing her off and inspecting her carefully. "I apologise." He hands her back to Scorpius. "I forgot to mention it." 

Scorpius hugs Bathilda back to his chest and stares incredulously up at his dad. "How can you forget something like that?" He shakes his head. "How am I supposed to sleep now?"

"The longer you sleep, the faster tomorrow will be here," his dad says, in the sort of wise, parental voice Astoria used to use when she spouted bits of wisdom. 

"Easier said than done," Scorpius mutters, stroking his fingers along Bathilda's wings.

"Healer Fredericks also sent up your Sleeping Potion, if you need it," his dad says, sinking back into his chair. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I'd rather not. They give you nightmares for days after you take them." He pulls the blankets up to his chin and stares at the clean, white sheets, and in the silence he can hear the soft hum and ping of the monitoring spells, as they watch his heart rate and breathing and whatever else the Healers are interested in. 

"I think I'm going to talk to him about our second date," Scorpius says thoughtfully. "It'll be nice to have something to look forward to about going back to school, other than the classes and everything..." 

"If you could try not to collapse during this one, that would be wonderful." 

Scorpius glares at his dad. "I didn't want to-" He breaks off as he spots the mischievous glint in his eye. "That's not funny." 

"Sorry," his dad says, trying to restrain his smile. 

"I forgive you," Scorpius replies, punching his pillow into a better shape then flopping down and curling up with his knees to his chest. "I'm going to sleep now."

His dad draws his wand and waves it in the air. Immediately all the lights in the room go out, and all that's left is a faint pinprick of light from Draco's wand.

"Is this alright?" He asks. "I can Nox it if you want." 

"It's fine," Scorpius says, closing his eyes. He lies very still on his side, mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, over all the things he needs and wants to remember to say tomorrow. It must be obvious that he's worrying, because he hears a rustle of robes, then feels a hand brush through his hair. 

"He loves you too, Scorpius. There's nothing for you to worry about. In fact he's probably also lying somewhere worrying about what to say tomorrow." 

Scorpius smiles and looks up at his dad. His eyes glitter like silver stars in the wandlight, and Scorpius feels reassured. His dad knows what it's like to be in love. He understands. And he's probably right.

"Okay," Scorpius murmurs. "I'll try to stop." 

"Get some sleep," his dad advises. "Everything will be okay in the morning." He squeezes Scorpius's shoulder, and Scorpius reaches up and grips his hand. 

"I love you, Dad." 

 His dad smiles and leans down to drop a kiss into his hair.

"I love you too," he says. He gives Scorpius's shoulder one final squeeze, and Scorpius holds tight to his hand until the last possible second. Then Draco withdraws to his seat, leaving Scorpius in darkness and taking the tiny glitter of silver wandlight with him. "Goodnight, Scorpius." 

 

It's freezing cold out in the hospital garden. The little square of bushes and trees and flowerbeds is surrounded on all sides by the hospital walls, so it's protected from most of the breeze, but that doesn't stop swirling gusts of frigid air biting at Draco's fingers. He digs his hands into his pockets to protect them as he walks down one of the paths past the bare rose bushes, melting grey slush soaking into his shoes. 

There's no one else out here. No one else would be stupid enough to be outside under a grey December sky that threatens rain or possibly more sleet. Everyone else is tucked away inside their rooms or the cafe. Nice and warm and comfortable. But Draco likes the fresh air, and he's always found the garden peaceful. He has good memories of being out here. Astoria had always liked to sit out here when she could. 

He breathes in a deep lungful of cold air and pulls his hands out of his pockets, rubbing his fingers together and blowing on them for warmth. He glances up at the window of Scorpius's room, then looks away again. Albus should have arrived by now. He's trying not to think much about what the boys might get up to in his absence. It's none of his business. He's trying to focus on the fact that time alone with Albus will make Scorpius happy, and Scorpius's happiness is of paramount importance. 

He turns down a path so his back is to the window, and as he does he hears someone call out behind him, and hurried footsteps approach. 

"Draco!" 

He glances back, recognising the voice instantly, and sees Potter rushing towards him looking dishevelled, cloak falling off one of his shoulders, glasses askew, hair its usual unruly mess. He folds his arms and gives him an unimpressed look. 

"Potter. You've left our sons entirely unattended, then?"

"I thought that was what you wanted," Harry says, catching up with him and slowing to a walk. 

Draco shrugs. "I did. But at least now if anything goes wrong I can blame you." He glances at him. "Last time they were on their own they vanished." 

"You were supposed to be in charge of them then," Harry points out, and Draco glares at him. "But," he says, backtracking quickly. "I'm not blaming you for them running off. When those two set their minds to it they can't be stopped. Unfortunately."

"Or fortunately," Draco corrects. "In the vast majority of cases." 

Harry gives a little nod. "True." 

Draco puts his hands in his pockets. "Are they really alright up there?"

"There are plenty of Healers around," Harry says, glancing up at the window. "And they're of age. They can take care of themselves. I hope." He looks back at Draco. "Albus had a lot of things he wanted to say. They'll probably just sit and talk." 

Draco nods. "Scorpius too. He spent all day yesterday worrying about how to say it all."

"They're a funny pair," Harry says, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers and looking around at the lifeless garden. 

"A Potter and a Malfoy," Draco says, looking down at the grey slush around his feet. 

"I'm not sure the concept is such a strange one," Harry replies, in a light tone that Draco could swear is teasing. He looks at Harry, who shoots him a bright grin. A slow smirk crosses Draco's face and he shakes his head. 

"I'm glad it's no longer a foreign idea to you." 

"I get the feeling I'm going to have to get used to it," Harry says, running a hand through his already-ruffled hair. 

"Undoubtedly." 

They lapse into silence, listening to the sound of the breeze, and the rush of Muggle traffic somewhere out on the street beyond the hidden hospital. A siren wails and car horns honk. A handful of snowflakes tumble from the grey clouds, and Draco watches them fall. 

"Potter," he says, tearing his eyes away from the falling flakes. 

"Yes, Draco?" 

Draco looks at him. "I don't think I've had chance to say thank you." 

Harry frowns at him. "What for? Are you sure you're feeling alright, Draco? Thanking me for something?" 

"No," Draco says, adjusting his cuffs. "I suppose I can't be. I must have caught something awful in this godforsaken place. But seriously, Potter." He stops fiddling with his cuffs and turns to look properly at Harry. "I do need to thank you. For your hospitality while Scorpius was missing. I know you were useless in trying to find him, but you and Ginny did at least make the experience slightly less lonely. It would have been more difficult on my own. The Manor can become very big and very empty."

Harry nods, gaze sharp and focused, directed right at Draco. "I can imagine."

"Whereas your house is so small and full of people it's impossible to be lonely. Most of the time you can't even hear yourself think. Sometimes that's more useful than others." 

"I think there was a thank you somewhere in all that," Harry says with a small smile. He pushes his glasses up his nose and frowns. "Did I ever thank you for the Time-Turner?" 

Draco considers carefully. "You know, I don't think you did." He draws himself up tall, assuming the high ground, now it's been given to him. 

"Then thank you," Harry says, very sincere. 

"I suppose this makes us even," Draco says. He holds his hand out to Harry, and Harry looks at it for just a moment before shaking it. “You’ve been a reasonable friend, Potter, as friends go. I’m grateful. And I trust that we can continue to take care of our sons together. Although hopefully they won’t get into too much more trouble...”

“Did you just say you trust me?” Harry asks, releasing Draco’s hand and giving him a surprised smile. 

Draco folds his arms. “I may have done. I did say I’d consider it if Scorpius came back safely, and-“ He gestures up to the window high above them. “I’m sure I’ll come to my senses soon enough.”

Harry grins and blows on his hands, rubbing them together for warmth. “Anyway, they’re adults now. Leaving school soon. They'll have to sort out their own problems...” Harry grins and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Unless they're anything like James. He comes running back all the time. Mostly whenever something needs fixing or wants his laundry needs doing." 

Draco sighs. "So much for freedom. Although I'm not sure I'd be ready for Scorpius to fly the nest just yet." 

Harry looks round at the window to Scorpius's room. "No," he agrees. "I hope they keep coming back for a long time. I'm quite attached to them."

Draco thinks of an exhausted Albus sitting by Scorpius's hospital bed until late into the night to keep him company, and he thinks of Scorpius smiling like the sun whenever Albus is around. "Yes," he agrees. "I'm quite attached to both of them." 

 

Scorpius sits curled up in the chair by the window, studying _The Imperius Curse and How to Abuse It_. It's the furthest he's been from his bed since he got to the hospital, and he's quite proud of the achievement. He sleeps less now, his legs are getting a little stronger, he no longer feels exhausted all the time. He's beginning to feel like he's really getting better. There's even talk of him being allowed home in time for the Christmas holidays.

He runs a hand through his hair and throws a shadow across the pages. The shafts of winter sunlight spike crisp and sharp into the room from the window behind him, not warm enough to make any impact beyond lighting Scorpius's pages for him. Every now and then he glances up at the door, but after a while he gives up on checking, and just concentrates on his reading. 

This book really is fascinating. Grotesque, but fascinating. He's just finished a chapter about how the curse works, and some of the best techniques for bending it to your will, and now he's on a chapter of case studies. The one he's reading at the moment, about the Ministry officials who were controlled during the war, gloating about the awful things they did, makes him feel a tiny bit sick. It reminds him too much of that other world, and how dark and terrible it had been. Dark enough to cling to him, follow him home. Dark enough to infect him. Dark enough to almost kill him. Reading about this makes him more glad than ever that that world doesn't exist anymore. 

He's so immersed in the tale of Pius Thicknesse and his own thoughts about it that he doesn't hear the soft knock on the door. Nor does he hear it creak open. He only becomes aware that anyone is standing there when they clear their throat.

"Scorpius..." 

He looks up and freezes, staring at his visitor. Albus is finally here. 

He looks... Scorpius isn't sure what the right word would be. He doesn't look perfect. His left arm is in a sling and there are circles under his eyes, like he hasn't been sleeping well. But despite that, he looks even more wonderful than Scorpius remembers. 

He's wearing jeans, and a crisp white t-shirt under his favourite green hoodie, which he hasn't bothered to zip up. His hair is ruffled, bits sticking up at the front and the back. And he's staring at Scorpius with an incredible intensity, like he can't entirely believe he's seeing him, like he's desperate to convince himself that Scorpius is real. 

"H-hi," he says after a moment. He gives a nervous little wave before dropping his hand and shuffling his feet.

"Hi," Scorpius breathes in reply.

Albus swallows, almost half smiling before it fades away again. "I-" He looks lost. Lost for what he should say or how he should feel. He gestures to Scorpius. "You- I don't know what to say." 

Scorpius shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet, using the arm of his chair for support. He sways a bit, but holds himself steady. "Don't say anything." 

"But I-" Albus spreads his hands. "You're alive." 

Scorpius nods and takes a tentative step forward. He hasn't walked on his own yet. He's always had someone to hold him. But he doesn't immediately collapse, and he needs to get to Albus, so he lets go of the chair and starts stumbling across the room. "Yes, I am." 

Albus takes two steps forward and they meet halfway. Scorpius grips hold of Albus's hoodie and looks at him, trying to find the right words, trying to remember what he was planning to say. But nothing is forthcoming, so instead he gives up and drags Albus in, kissing him as hard as he can. 

Albus makes a half startled, half delighted noise, and he slides his good arm round Scorpius's back, pulling him closer. Scorpius is only too happy to oblige. He presses himself against Albus and runs his fingers through all that glorious, messy hair. 

It's so much – the wonderful intensity of kissing Albus, the softness of his lips, the silky warmth of his hair, the solid press of his body as they try to get as close together as they can – that at first Scorpius doesn't appreciate the lack of pain he's feeling. But then he realises that although his heart is beating wildly, it doesn't hurt. He doesn't feel sick or uncomfortable. He isn't aching. He's free, finally free, to kiss Albus as hard and as long as he likes. And with that glorious revelation he starts to cry. 

He stumbles back with a gasp and grabs onto the bed to keep himself upright. His legs have gone to jelly and his head is spinning. There are tears spilling down his face, and he sniffs and wipes them away. 

"Scorpius," Albus says, stepping forward and gripping hold of his arm. There's genuine terror and panic in his expression. "Are you okay? Does it hurt? Do you need-" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. No. I'm okay. I'm just..." He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand. "Happy." His legs finally give out and he sags against Albus, who just manages to support him. 

"Don't fall," Albus says, guiding him closer to the bed. "I won't be able to help you." 

"Sorry," Scorpius murmurs. He just manages to fall onto the edge of the bed, head bowed, body shaking with the effort of standing for so long.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Albus asks, sitting beside him and putting an arm round his back. "You don't look good."

Scorpius wipes his eyes again, then gives Albus a bright, tearful smile. "I promise I'm really okay. I promise." He leans against Albus's side. "I just realised it didn't hurt. When I kissed you. Which obviously is a good thing."

Albus looks at him and a slow grin forms on his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making him light up. "You really are better, then?"

"I love you," Scorpius says, then he waits a few seconds before spreading his hands in a 'there you go' sort of gesture. 

Albus's grin gets so wide it looks like his face is going to split. He bounces a bit, and gives Scorpius a tight squeeze, kissing him on the cheek. "I love you too." 

"I know," Scorpius says, resting his head on Albus's shoulder. Albus slides his arm out from behind Scorpius's back and takes his hand instead. Scorpius plays with his fingers, curling them closed and then open again, feeling very warm and very content. 

"They still haven't fixed your shoulder then?" He asks after a moment, glancing up at Albus and gesturing to the sling.

Albus pulls a face. "They're working on it. Apparently it's difficult." 

Scorpius grins. "Everything to do with you is difficult." 

Albus elbows him in the ribs. "I've been told off by about fifteen different Healers for not getting it looked at right away. Apparently that makes it more complicated. Anyway. It hurts. But I think they're nearly done pulling me apart and putting me back together again." 

"What did they have to do?" Scorpius asks curiously, lifting his head to look at Albus properly. 

Albus shrugs his good shoulder. "No idea. You'd have to ask one of them. But I assure you it was not pleasant. I haven't slept properly since I got here. It hurts too much." 

Scorpius smirks at him. "Poor Albus Potter. Going through so much pain. I can't imagine what that must have been like." 

Albus swats at him. "Saying my shoulder hurts is _not_ insensitive! I know what you went through was a thousand times worse. I really do know that. But it doesn't mean my shoulder doesn't hurt." 

Scorpius kisses him on the cheek, just because he can. "I know. I was just teasing." He squeezes Albus's hand tight, and they fall silent. He strokes his thumb across the back of Albus's hand and closes his eyes, enjoying the quiet, easy comfort of the moment. 

"I couldn't cure you," Albus murmurs eventually. He shifts, and Scorpius opens his eyes to see Albus looking down at him. "I'm sorry I couldn't... I wanted to do it on my own... I thought I could. I thought that if you drank it with me- I thought I loved you enough. And it was stupid, and selfish, and I nearly killed you. Because I didn't think. Because I never think." He pulls his hand from Scorpius's grip and clenches it in his lap, staring down at his knees. His shoulders have gone all tight and tense, and he's frowning. He looks so small and miserable like this, and Scorpius turns to him, reaching out to touch his arm. 

"Albus..." He trails his fingers down Albus's arm and shifts closer on the bed. "You can't say sorry to me," he says. "You just-" He shakes his head. "You can't. I won't let you. Because whether you personally saved me or not doesn't matter. You still did it. You still made the potion. And you knew to take me to my dad..." He gestures to himself. "I am here, Albus. I am whole. I am better. All thanks to you. So you can't say sorry." 

Albus shakes his head and turns to him, expression desperate. "But I-" 

Scorpius puts a finger to Albus's lips to shut him up. "No. I should be thanking you. That's how this conversation is meant to go. I say thank you for doing this with me, for being a master potioneer, and then you say 'you're welcome', and then we hug or kiss or something. That's what's meant to happen. So how about we try that?" He looks at Albus and withdraws his finger. "Thank you." 

"I don't think you should-" 

Scorpius sighs. "You weren't listening to the instructions, were you?" 

Albus looks at him, expression lost, and still unhappy. "No, because-" 

Scorpius cups his face in both hands, leans in, and kisses him, soft and deep, eyes squeezed shut, trying to inject the idea that he won't take no for an answer on this one, trying to express all his gratitude and love in that single kiss. And when he pulls back and opens his eyes, Albus is still sitting there, eyes still closed, head slightly tilted, not moving an inch from where Scorpius had kissed him, and Scorpius knows the message has been received. 

He brushes his fingers along Albus's jaw and smiles when Albus finally opens his eyes. 

"Okay?" 

Albus takes an unsteady breath and nods. "Okay." 

Scorpius keeps his fingers on Albus's chin, gently holding his face, admiring him. "We saved me together. Just the way I wanted it. I think we did quite well, aside from your shoulder." 

Albus smiles. "It could have been less stressful... but it was a good adventure."

"We'd never have met Fawkes without this," Scorpius says. "Or gone into the Chamber." 

"Or seen those dragons." 

"Or been turned into Pygmy Puffs!" 

Albus gives him an incredulous look. "You really enjoyed that, didn't you?" 

Scorpius grins. "It was pretty fun. And I was very fluffy. I'm almost sad all the pink's finally gone from my hair..." 

"Speaking of your hair," Albus says. "You've had it cut." He reaches out and ruffles his fingers through the now much shorter blond strands. 

Scorpius nods. "I have. I don't want it getting in my eyes when I go back to school. And I definitely don't need to look _any_ more like my dad." 

"Back to school," Albus says, and a very bright smile creeps onto his face. "You'll be coming back to school. I won't be alone in the dorm any more. I won't have to sleep next to your empty bed. And I won't miss any more lessons because you weren't there to wake me up." 

"I can make you do your homework," Scorpius says. 

"You can help me with my Transfiguration," Albus says. He catches hold of Scorpius's hand and gives him a desperate look. " _Please_ help with my Transfiguration." 

"We can help each other," Scorpius says, squeezing his hand. "We have a lot of catching up to do. Especially if someone wants to be an Auror." He gives Albus a gentle nudge in the ribs, and Albus nudges him back.

"Says the boy who wants to be a Healer." 

"Like I say," Scorpius says. "We can help each other." He takes Albus's hand again and brushes his fingers over the lines in Albus's palm. Outside, the clouds break, and a shaft of sunlight comes slanting in through the window. Scorpius glances towards it, and remembers the book he'd left lying on the chair. 

"I'm glad," he says softly, looking at Albus, whose face is bathed in silver sunshine. "That you're going to be an Auror." 

Albus turns to look at him, face falling into shadow, although his hair shines with a bright halo. "Are you?" 

Scorpius nods. "I've been thinking about the other world. The one with Voldemort." He swallows and glances at Albus. "That was where I got this disease. It was awful enough to breed something like that, and to change us all. You know, corrupt us. Me, my dad, everyone. So..." He gives a little shrug and squeezes Albus's hand. "So I'm glad we have people like you stopping that sort of thing from happening. Making sure that..." He brushes a bit of hair behind his ear. "Making sure that we don't have to stop loving each other." He flashes Albus a small smile, and sees Albus gazing at him with a sharp intensity. He meets Albus's eyes, and the rest of the bright, brilliant world they inhabit melts away. 

Albus releases his hand and reaches up, stroking his fingers down the back of Scorpius's neck. Scorpius shivers and brushes his hands through Albus's hair, holding him steady. 

Inches apart, they look at each other. Then Albus's gaze switches to Scorpius's lips, and Scorpius discovers he has no self-control left. He leans across and kisses Albus with all the love he has to give, holding nothing back. Because now, finally, after all these months and years, there's no reason left to hold back. He loves Albus and Albus knows it; there's no more fear. His disease is gone and it won't come back. He's free of pain and sickness. All that's left inside him is hope and happiness and love. 


	20. Epilogue – The Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's January, and Albus is waiting at Platform 9 3/4 for Scorpius to arrive, so they can take the Hogwarts Express back to school together for the very final time…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it... It's been a wild ride! I'm probably prouder of this fic than anything I've ever written before, and there are so many people who it wouldn't have happened without:
> 
> -My amazing friends/guinea pigs/victims who I sent the worst snippets to as I was writing.  
> -All the readers and commenters, especially the people who took time to send lengthy liveblogs of each chapter for my entertainment.  
> -And especially to my incredible friend and beta, Abradystrix, who first heard about this idea about a year ago, and has been suffering ever since. How do you feel about a novel-length fic about the adventures of Bathilda the Bat next?
> 
> Massive love to you all, thank you for your support (and your delicious tears), and I'll see you again... whenever I finish writing my next masterwork of angst!

Albus stands on the platform, holding tight to the handle of his trolley, and looks around anxiously. The steam billowing from the scarlet Hogwarts Express clouds the whole scene, making it difficult to see. People keep bustling into and out of the haze, but not the people Albus is looking for. 

The Pygmy Puff perched on the handle beside Albus's left hand is purring in agitation, and it's only making Albus more stressed. He picks it up and puts it on his shoulder so it can see better. 

"Calm down, Archie," he murmurs. "He'll be here. There's still plenty of time." 

He doesn't sound convincing, even to himself. A glance at the clock shows him that they definitely _don't_ have plenty of time. It's almost five to eleven already. If Scorpius doesn't come soon he's going to miss the train. 

He drums his fingers on the handle of his trolley and takes a deep breath. Even if Scorpius _does_ miss the train this isn't going to be like last time. It's not going to be for some terrible reason. It'll be because he's wildly disorganised and had to go back for his copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ , or because he couldn't find his favourite pair of socks. He'll show up at school later this evening in time for the feast, and everything will be fine. 

But Albus has been looking forward to this moment for so long. He's been counting on this train ride. He wants to share the last one with his best friend, with his boyfriend, who he met all those years ago on this train. He needs Scorpius to be here. It'll be hopelessly lonely without him. And Albus hasn't seen him in _so long_. He really has been looking forward to this. 

When Scorpius was let out of hospital, they agreed with their dads that they would both be grounded for the Christmas holiday. They both had so much work to do, and Scorpius wasn't really well enough to leave the house anyway. It seemed sensible to keep to themselves, not see much of each other, just concentrate on catching up and revising and recovering. But of course it's been awful. Aside from a few fleeting Fire Calls, Albus hasn't seen Scorpius since the middle of December. And it's now the middle of January. He misses him. Desperately.

"Still no sign of him then?" Rose asks, pushing her trolley up next to Albus's. 

Albus shakes his head and sighs. "Nothing." 

"I can tell," Rose says. "Even your hair looks stressed." She reaches up and flattens it down where it must be sticking up on top of his head. 

"I just really want him to-"

"I know," she says, adjusting the front of his robes for him. "I know you want him here. And he will come. He'd better. He has Head Boy duty to do!”

"But what if-" 

Rose puts an arm round him, forcing Archie to snuggle himself against Albus's neck to avoid being sent flying. "Albus, stop worrying. It doesn't suit you." 

He looks at her, feeling very miserable and very worried. She ruffles his hair. 

"I mean it. Anyway, if you're going to stand here and be a killjoy then I'll go and talk to someone else. Where have your parents gone?" 

Albus gestures off across the platform. "Talking to yours."

"Well. I'm going to go and talk to them. Don't fret too much, okay? And don't miss the train." She gives his hair one last smooth, then turns and disappears in the direction of their parents. 

Albus follows her very slowly, still scanning the crowd, nerves building with every passing second. Although the platform is long and busy, Albus is certain that he'd know if Scorpius were here already. He's been waiting by the entrance, and even if he didn't have an intimate knowledge of how Scorpius looks, the Malfoy hair stands out a mile off. 

"Are you ready?" His mum asks, breaking away from the conversation and walking across to him. 

He shakes his head. "Not really."

She smiles. "Strange going for the last time?" 

He parks the trolley and looks at her. "A little bit... I can still remember the first time, and now... I don't feel old enough to be leaving school. It's weird. And... and Scorpius isn't here." He glances up at the clock again. It's now three minutes to eleven.

His mum steps forward and gives him a tight squeeze. "It's going to be okay," she whispers in his ear. "I promise. Whatever happens, whether he gets here or not. You're going to have a great term." She pulls back and looks in the eye. "And you _can_ do this. You can do anything. Okay?" 

Albus nods, and she gives him a second tight hug before releasing him. 

"Do you want help getting your things on the train?" 

Albus glances at the clock again. "I suppose so." He picks Archie up off his shoulder and puts him on top of his trunk. He's reluctant to get everything loaded on, but with two minutes until the train leaves there isn't much choice. Luckily there isn't that much to load up, since it was only the Christmas break he was home for. If this were the start of the year there would be next to no hope of getting everything on in time. 

His dad comes over to him, giving him a warm smile. "Have a good term," he says. "Do yourself proud, okay?" 

Albus nods and buries himself in his dad's arms, hugging him as tight as he can. 

"Stay calm," his dad advises. "Work hard. Have fun, but not too much fun. And don't let the pressure get to you. You'll be brilliant." 

Albus pulls away from him. "Thank you." He runs a hand through his hair and glances at the clock again. "I just wish-" 

"That Scorpius was here?" His dad grins and points over his shoulder, towards the platform entrance. 

Albus spins round wildly, staring. There is Draco Malfoy, tall and imposing, striding through the steam pushing a trolley. His ponytail is askew and he looks the most flustered he ever looks: slightly pink-cheeked, walking at something a touch above a sedate pace. 

Albus feels the tightness in his chest loosen with relief, but he still hasn't seen Scorpius, and he can't believe that Scorpius is here until he's seen him, so-

A white blond comet comes flying out of nowhere, moving too fast for Albus to register it's even there before it hits. The hug is the most solid one Albus has ever had in his life. He can feel the momentum knocking them both backwards, and he worries that Scorpius is about to accidentally decapitate him, so he drops to the ground, and Scorpius falls in a heap on top of him. 

"You sat down!" Scorpius says indignantly, trying to wriggle free. "I was just trying to hug you." 

Albus breaks into a huge grin and gives him a little shove. "You nearly took my head off. It was self-defence." 

Scorpius rolls his eyes and uses Albus's head as leverage to get up. "Whatever it was, it was uncalled for. I'm still weak, Albus. Getting up off the floor is difficult for me." 

Albus picks himself up and tickles Scorpius's sides so Scorpius gives a little shriek and squirms away. "You didn't seem weak when you hit me like an oncoming train." 

"It comes and goes," Scorpius says loftily, dusting his robes off. "It's a selective weakness." 

The mischievous sparkle in his eyes tells Albus that it's rubbish, that Scorpius is complete fine, just being over dramatic because he has the perfect excuse to be. He's going to milk the illness for all it's worth now he's better. 

"Is that what it's called?" Albus smirks. "Technical term? Selective weakness?" 

Scorpius grins at him. "Something like that." 

They look at each other for a moment, then Albus steps in and kisses him, hard and fast, pulling away before Scorpius has chance to get used to the fact that he's being kissed. It leaves Scorpius looking slightly stunned, which is what Albus was hoping to achieve. 

"You're better, then," he says. 

Scorpius smiles and nods. "Lots. And your shoulder's better too." 

"It's doing okay."

They beam at each other, lost in their own little world. 

Then there's a loud whistle that shatters the moment. There's shouting and doors slamming. Draco comes up to them and starts chivvying them towards the train. 

"You have plenty of time to talk, Scorpius. This isn't the moment." 

Scorpius grins at him. "Sorry, Dad." 

"You'll be the one who's sorry when the train goes without you. Come on."

They rush to the door where Rose is waiting for them, holding it open until the last second. She grabs Scorpius in a tight hug when he hops up, and Albus scrambles on board after him, slamming the door shut. 

Albus sticks his head out of the open window, and his parents are there. 

"Have a good term," his mum says, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. 

Scorpius jostles for position at the window, nudging Albus to the side, and Ginny kisses him too. 

"Don't do anything your fathers wouldn't," she says, flashing them both a smile, and Harry gives her a look of pure indignance before grinning. 

"We'd never dream of it," Albus says, leaning down to hug his dad. 

"Of course not," Scorpius says. "Although I will try to be a good influence on your son. We would quite like to pass our exams. Wouldn't we, Albus?"

Albus nods. "Definitely." 

"A good influence would be very much appreciated," Harry says, managing to get in a brief pat on Scorpius's shoulder before Draco nudges him out of the way to squeeze Scorpius in the tightest hug he can manage. 

"We'll be on our best behaviour," Albus promises, looking between his parents and Draco. 

Draco releases Scorpius and gives him a nod, and a squeeze of the shoulder. "I should hope so too." 

"No more trouble," Scorpius says, wrapping an arm round Albus. "Just hard work and exams." 

Albus nods seriously. Then they look at each other and grin, and their parents exchange knowing looks as they step away from the train, which has begun to move. 

They wave, and Harry, Ginny, and Draco all wave back at them as the train gathers speed, pulling away from the station, pulling them away from London and back towards Hogwarts for the last time. 

When the station is finally out of sight, Scorpius turns to Albus. 

"Did you think I wasn't coming?" 

Albus picks Archie up and puts him on his shoulder, then he draws his wand, ready to levitate his trunk to an empty compartment. "It had crossed my mind that you might miss the train." 

Scorpius looks around at the bustling corridors and smiles. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Not our last one. This train is very important to me." He draws his wand too and casts the spell to make his trunk hover a few inches off the ground. "Do you remember when we jumped off the roof?" 

"How could I forget?" Albus asks, levitating his own trunk. 

"And we met here too... No. Don't worry. This time I was just running late." 

"This time," Albus repeats. 

Scorpius nods, smile fading into seriousness. "Yes... I am better, Albus. Completely. I mean... sometimes my legs give out on me, and sometimes I get dizzy when I get overexcited. But on the whole." He spreads his hands. "Cured. And excited to be going back." 

Albus takes hold of one of his hands and squeezes it tight. "I'm glad. That you're here. It wouldn't have been the same without you. And I was really worried, after last time, that you wouldn't-" 

Scorpius sets his trunk down, pockets his wand, and faces Albus, looking right into his eyes. "I'm here. Here to stay. And this is going to be the best term ever." 

Albus pulls a face. "It's not. You know, going to be the best term ever. It's going to be a nightmare." 

"But it'll be a nightmare we face together," Scorpius says, wrapping an arm round Albus. "We saved the world. We saved my life. I think we can handle some exams." 

Albus looks at Scorpius, and he feels comforted and convinced. They can do anything together. They've already done so much. And if he wants to help keep the darkness out of the world, then this is what he has to do. 

He puts an arm round Scorpius's waist and nods. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we can do this. Maybe this is going to be a good term."

"Whatever happens," Scorpius says with a grin. "It'll be better than the last one." 

They look at each other, and for a moment they're silent, then they both burst out laughing. Relieved, and happy, bright, momentarily unencumbered. They grip one another for support as they laugh, and the train rattles out of cold, grey London, and on towards snowy fields, under crisp blue skies, bathed in winter sunshine. Back towards the castle they've called home for so long. Together, happy; healthy at last, and ready for whatever the future brings.


End file.
